History Rewritten Nordic Style!
by The Sterling Dragon
Summary: During the time of the viking age the Scandinavians ruled the seas, follow them on their adventures as they conquer new lands, bully Western Europe, and be overall rowdy teens looking for their place in the world. Historical!Hetalia and no pairings what-so-ever.
1. A Giant Snake Attacks Us

In the History Re-written Series, we start with the time of great raids

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Characters: Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Iceland, Finland, and Western Europe

Place: Northern and Western Europe

Date: 8th-11th centuries

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Some beginnings start with endings...

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A raven glided through the air coming to a rest on a branch of a gnarled birch, arranging his feathers as an adolescent looked on from his perch on his horse. He scrutinized the bird from below as it preened its feathers, reading its movements as if looking for a sign. The horse stomped the ground a hollow sound resonating thought its hoof. The eerie silence was relentlessly shattered as the crunch and snap of a snow-laden twig wounded the silence like a blade through flesh in an impractical approach. The young Norwegian sighed looking over his shoulder at an abnormally large tree, "Hello Denmark." He murmured with a blank look occupying his face. The Danish boy smiled obliviously and slung the ax that he carried over his shoulder like it weighed nothing more than an empty burlap bag. The two males stood in awkward silence for a moment until Denmark broke it with a nervous laugh.

"You know this is the first time that we've been on a raid since... since... dad" His words slowly became increasingly solemn as he talked on, trademark smirk slowly disappearing from his face until he looked down at his snow-covered feet wondering if they were numb by now.

"Yeah." Norway answered distantly, pained expression crossing his face only once. Kicking his horse forward he motioned for the Dane to follow as they descended down the craggy slope to the fjord where a certain Swede awaited with the vessel to travel across the liquid night to the south where all of Europe awaited.

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~Hetalia~

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The waves pounded against the sides of the dragon-headed ship, twenty foot waves crashed over the side of the boat pouring water and sea foam into the small, hand crafted vessel. With the stars blocked the Nordics had no idea of where they were in the oceans, having set off from Norway's home they had started south toward what the stars had guided as England but now they weren't to sure, caught up in the storm the teens removed the sail, waiting out the storm. In the process of the waves throwing water onboard and the teens bucketing it out as fast as they could, their food supplies was ruined with the amount of salt water that was pounding into it, they being teens hadn't thought of the fact that they might run into a freak storm like this one as their older seamen had said they would. Almost as soon as the rain and waves had started the sea calmed again, in the distance a large black spot could be seen, at first they thought it was a boat until the thing lifted it's head, sea weed hanging from it's jaws as ice banks formed around its massive body. Slimy scales glistened in the moonlight and Norway could make out the stars again.

Shouting orders to Denmark and Sweden the Norwegian quickly made his way around the boat murmuring protective spells under his breath, hoping to keep the snake at bay, even if it chose to beach them by lifting up part of it's body that swathed the world in a mass of giant snake.

The other two grunted as they hulled the soaking wet red and white sail up, and then proceeded to furiously throw buckets upon buckets of water out of the dragon vessel. They slipped across the deck to take their places at the ores prepared to row as soon as Norway returned form his spell-casting to give out orders, yes Norway was the one who gave orders. Norway was the most Viking out of the three and Sweden was far less, he hardly did any pirating since their father, Scandinavia had died in a raid against Britannia. He mostly went exploring east and had stumbled across Finland and Russia, whom he called Rus.

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~Hetalia~

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The three staggered onto the land beaching their small boat on the sandy shores. In the mad rush to get away from the hungry snake they had lost track of their position and had drifted farther south and west into a different territory. Deciding to explore a little more the three took their respective weapons and departed agreeing to meet up again at the height of Sol's path across the sky. Slipping on the loose sand Denmark managed to scrabble up the bank of the beach to meet fields and in the far distance towns. The messy-haired blonde proceeded to slink off in that direction noticing that Norway went north and Sweden went south so the only way to go was in the direction of the Sun goddess. Making a mental note to himself the Dane walked into the field of barley running his fingers through the stalks as he walked making a little trail bathed in the predawn light. Tiny dust partials danced in the air and he almost wished that he didn't have to carry around his ax all the time for self-protection and just lay in the green field all day. A few minutes after he had entered the green sea he had exited abruptly blue eyes snapping open at the lack of barley under his fingertips. He tripped over his own two feet and fell down an embankment, dust caking his brown clothing, clinging to the damp material. He huffed and just lay there for a few minutes. Deciding that he should get up or risk being found by a native to the unknown country that they had oh-so-conveniently landed on that morning, the country staggered and sauntered down the path leaving dusty footprints in the, well, dust. He meandered along the path a little more until a scraggly, ancient bush caught on his cloak, forcing him to thrash said shrub only to straighten his cloths and look around nervously once he realized that he was having a fight with the shrubbery. A gleam caught his eye and the Nordic brushed past the threatening shrub, brandishing his axe at it waiting for it to make a move, who knows what could be living in that thing?

After his _lovely _outing with the bush he came upon a small, secluded village that he had seen from the wheat field… that was in the distance… he'd gone in a circle… damn. Using about as much charm as a person covered in dust and smelling of saltwater and sweat could he swaggered into the small town to _explore_ it a little more paying no heed to the rising goddess in the sky.

The village was small with quaint cobblestone streets and small shops with people wondering around buying bread and food at a market, the Dane took his time and flirted a little, not really understanding what the people were saying quite exactly. He almost felt at home in the quaint town and worried that should Norway decide to raid the area what would become of the people and their work. Banishing that thought and the audacity of it to the back of his mind he explored the area a little more finding all the escape routes and alleyways of the area.

It was way past noon when the nation turned on his heel and slipped out of the village unnoticed without turning many heads in the process. He stumbled over his feet as he ran turning every so often apprehensively to be sure that no one was watching him as he fled to get his friends, batting at the wheat he relishing in the cool breeze and the almost human touch that ruffled his already hopeless hair. His foot caught under a relatively large rock and he tripped falling flat on his face getting a mouthful of dirt. Sputtering he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, dirt leaving a gritty taste in his mouth as he crunched on sand and green wheat. T'was a lovely concoction that made the Dane grimace scraping his tongue against his upper teeth to rid himself of the taste he sat back wiping his mouth only to find a small girl staring at him with wide doe-like brown eyes, her caramel-coloured hair back in a braid. She was maybe six, possibly five. "Oh shit." He rasped.

The girl dashed off in the other direction yelling something along the lines of "Papa! Papa! A strange boy is eating our wheat!" There were tears in her eyes as she ran away wailing looking for her 'Papa' Denmark too this as the prime moment in his life to make a mad dash to the crest of the hill where their dragon ship lounged in waiting. Spurred on by the darkening sky he sprinted through the tall stalks, the tips smacking against his lower face and neck. Panting he stumbled to the crest of the hill to come face-to-blade with Norway's sword.

"Whoa! Norge! I swear I'm not a troll if that's what your thinking, not that I could compare to one of those blood-thirsty- ipe!" He yelped as the Norwegian punched him in the jaw.

"We said midday not midnight, were you that lost?" Was the blunt answer as the Dane rubbed his jaw; at least it wasn't Sweden who was currently cooking a rabbit over a spit.

"Damn Norge," He mumbled, "You've got quite the punch." The adolescent laughed nervously. "Yeah I got lost, fought with a bush, beat-up by a rock, and scared a small child."

By now Sweden had taken interest into what the argument was over. "Did you find a town?" the Swede asked, eyes boring into the Dane's skull in an unwavering sea-green gaze.

"Nope! There isn't nothing like that just beyond the field, no there isn't!" Came the apprehensive reply, it was amazing how fast one could crack when stared at by two of the most intimidating nations of that time.

"Especially one with food and supplies, or anything stupid like that. Ha, ha, ha." He gave a nervous laugh the more that Denmark was stared at the more that slipped past his lips. The other two shared a look and went back to the fire where the rabbit was well-cooked on the spit, the Vikings split the pitiful excuse for food between them and wolfed it down, nearly burning themselves on the scalding juices that came from the stringy rabbit-meat.

"We'll attack tomorrow morning it will be foggy so they wont suspect us, we'll have about an hour or two to take what we need to be ready, unless Denmark blew our cover and we have to fight for it, then wipe the village out." Norway ordered before Sweden went to take first watch.

The young Swede was soon tired of sitting in one area, and knowing that Norway would roast him over a pit should he disobey orders he decided to take a page out of Denmark's book and go against the flow. Knowing full well that should the Norwegian wake up he'd be pissed; Norway was one of those people that valued sleep above all else. Looking down on his sleeping friends he slipped up the rocky slope to explore what could work to their advantage tomorrow. Standing at the top of the ridge he observed his surroundings and noted a building that looked much like a barn that should be a good area to find horses to take back for trading with the other Nordic countries. Seeing a faint outline of a town in the distance that he had not noticed before he figured that it would be best to use the horses to get to the village and out as soon as possible with as much as possible.

Slipping back down to the camp the swede unceremoniously kicked Denmark to wake him up for the second shift. Sweden fell asleep watching the fog Norway said would come roll in.

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Fin. The next chapter will be uploaded sometime next month, sorry for the vagueness but Finals are coming up and I'm terrible at math, isn't that great?

Please review if you have something to say, I really need to know if people like this or not, if you happen to have any ideas of what to name the little girl please tell me and in case you were wondering they landed in France in what will soon be Normandy, they were originally going to Scotland.


	2. A Turn of Events

A/N: Please Review! I'm not that scary… am I?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Characters: Norway, Denmark, and Sweden

Place: France

Date: 410-1400 C.E.

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Denmark awoke to a harsh kick to the side snapping him awake abruptly. Disoriented and groggy the nation rolled onto his back squinting irritably up, trying to make out the figure in the dense fog. Giving up on that he extended his senses so he was no longer oblivious to the world around him, the Dane noted the Swede's figure above him outlined in sharp relief against the foggy background as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the charcoals of the fire. He could smell the scent of wood, tar, and seawater off to his right and the faint smell of wood smoke to his left as well as the remnants of list nights' dinner. The occasional lapping of the waves and creaking of their ship threatened to lull him of again had Norway's voice not sliced through the deafening silence severing the heavy tension between the Dane and Swede the latter of the two having a glaring contest with the former.

"We're leaving." Were the only words that the Norwegian said and Denmark found his battle-axe in his hand and a sharp shove by a certain Swede in the right direction. Sweden turned and caught his broad sword one handedly as it was thrown across the fading embers by Norway who wielded his own hammer.

Shrugging his cloak on the three adolescents tripped up the rocky shoreline. Sweden nearly tripping near the top and sending Denmark over instead face first right into a puddle of mud. Nearly getting back up, the teen reached for his axe only to have Norway use him as a bridge forcing his head back down into the mud making a squelching sound.

"Come on Norge." The Dane whined lifting his head for a second time. But green stalks of wheat had already swallowed the Norwegian. Picking himself up and grasping his axe, now muddy, for the third time that morning and stumbled along like a drunk batting at the waist-high grain, wiping his face with the hem of his tunic, he came across Norway and Sweden staring at the humble farmhouse he'd seen the girl from yesterday run yowling for her papa.

"It's abandoned, I checked yesterday." Denmark lied hoping Norway couldn't catch his obviously desperate fib. His tone caused the Norwegian to look over his shoulder at him, dark blue eyes mesmerizing the Dane as he seemingly scoured his soul obviously unconvinced of the story but for once let it slide. He wasn't completely heartless. They waded onward through the sea of green wary of any lookout that the town might have posted, wary of any unwelcome visitors. They passed where Denmark had unceremoniously fallen. Two ravens called.

Just as the sun began to wake from her slumber the tree nations approached the quaint village. They had limited time, limited time until the locals woke up and found three Vikings waiting at their doorstep. Until that moment the three busied themselves with building a fire to make torches from, though they could just use the fire from the homes they raided they still preferred to be generous and make their own instead. That way they could use it to flush the villagers out of their homes for a little bit more chaos.

Finishing the task at hand Denmark enthusiastically counted down 'til they could rush the village.

3: they tensed the predawn light making it seem like their eyes were glowing.

2: grips tightened on their respective weapons.

1: _charge._

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Norway sprinted across the flat land the world was silent around him, nothing mattered as his vision tunneled, he called forth more fog as his companions let out terrifying shrieks. Denmark loped along to his right battle axe in one hand torch in the other setting alight the thatch roofs of the houses sending people running out, a person ran by Sweden with their hair on fire only to have their head loped off as they ran by the force of the blow sending their burning body into a sty. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Norway felt the rush of adrenaline turning his blood to ice, the time that the Nordic had to raid was taxing his strength and stamina as he swung at a nearby person crushing their chest in and splattering himself with sticky red liquid. He used he hammer as a staff to bend down and pick up a few gold coins from the corpse pushing them into his small bag along with the rest of his loot: a bracelet, a small dagger, and salt, yes salt, the northern nations couldn't get their own salt so the just took it from other people, nothing wrong that was there? Norway didn't think so.

He detected Sweden burst through a door in his peripheral vision and distantly heard the splintering sound that the wood made as he body-slammed the poor gate. He was coming back to his senses. Taking out another sack he smashed his hammer into the door to some sort of shop, taking in the sights of salted fish and meat, not to mention some grain that was probably animal feed or something close to it. The Nordic stuffed the bag full of salted fish and meat, taking a smaller bag for a little grain, and some sort of vegetable-fruit-thing that he'd happened to notice. However when he went to pick it up Norway found much to his disgust that it was some sort of snail the nation shivered at the creature and dropped it back down only this time it landed on the floor before slithering off to the gods know where.

Norway stumbled back out of the store and called forth fire to burn it to the ground, after looting it of course, he'd found: Another knife, a few cakes, some eggs, and a spool of yarn. He took everything but the yarn as it was some coarse, grey excuse for yarn and he wanted nothing of it. As he began walking the young Norwegian noticed something that was foreign to him, a dizzy feeling, deciding that he might have gotten caught up in the heat of the moment the nation chose to run to the outskirts of town- away from the ship, shooting Sweden a look as it seemed that Denmark was a tad bit busy hacking people apart. Just thinking about it made the teen feel worse and by the time he'd gotten to a tree he was practically dragging himself there on shear determination, halfway there he'd broken into a cold sweat and his body felt uncomfortably hot, as if he ran 'til the end of the earth, but his skin was cool. He breathing was shaky and he felt his muscles going slack. Blinking sweat out of his eyes he started in horror when he could no longer see out of his left eye and the vision of his right was slowly fading. Head buzzing the nation sat down panting heavily not being able to catch his breath, puzzled at the unsuspected turn of events he collapsed against the tree, legs not of any use for the time being. He dragged himself into a half sitting position before he finally his entire body go numb and his hearing cease, his sight the last to go as he finally drifted out of consciousness.

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Sweden grunted as he busted a door in on a family. Completely ignoring them the Viking walked in scooped up their food and some furs and stuffed them into his elk-skin bag. When he finally noticed the family they'd been staring at him for long enough to cause quite the awkward silence. "Gr?" the Swede tried and they rushed out of the house. He managed to catch a ten year-old then remembering that they weren't there for slaves let him go, huffing as he lumbered to the other house oblivious to Denmark's violent hacking. The adolescent shrugged off his cloak as he wondered to a house untouched by fire, the fog having been completely spent, the sun finally just above her horizon, chased by the blood thirsty wolf. Just as there was no rest for her or her brother there was no rest for them.

Eventually the screaming died down and most of the villagers either lay dead in the street or had fled into the forest leaving the cold-blooded killers to count their loot in the sweltering heat. The houses reduced to nothing more but mere ashes as flies swarmed the corpses on the dirt road, a thick mixture of dust, blood, entrails, and urine, that had the most putrid odor that even Denmark was a little green. Making a face at the smell Sweden looked around for Norway the youngest had left during the fight and hadn't come back. Come to think of it the other had been acting quite strange recently, killing his enemies brutally but only in a short amount of time then disappearing again it wasn't like him at all. "Y'u see N'rg'?" The smaller of the two, Denmark being only slightly taller than Sweden but the eldest didn't need to look up to his junior to look him in the eye which was how Sweden liked to talk to people, he felt like he had their undivided attention.

"Nope!" the Dane replied swinging his axe over his shoulder spraying droplets of blood behind him, all over Sweden's newly cleaned sword named Rune.

"S'w 'im go t'at w'y." He mumbled pointing in the direction of a large, very coincidental Norway maple.

"Right!" Denmark shouted enthusiastically ready to leave the town, the smell was really making his stomach tender, that or he probably lost to much blood from when the baker's wife (well he thought she was a 'she') beat him upside the head with a grinding stone when he walked in on her milling wheat. The blood had matted on the side of his head making his blond hair clumpy, the blow had actually knocked him out for a few minutes but he'd woken up to find Sweden covering him, a nice sized splinter in his shoulder which he probably obtained from busting doors down.

The duo managed to use each other to limp over to the oversized tree, bags in tow only to find their friend passed out against the tree no visible marks on him except for a few singes in his cloak. They slumped down on either side of the Norwegian and sat for a while waiting for him to wake up knowing that they couldn't carry him back to the ship as well as their own bags, and knowing the area there were bound to be survivors waiting for them to fall asleep and let their guard down to kill them, however impossible that was.

Norway had finally begun to stir as soon the hottest part of the day had passed. Still wobbly and extremely pale, Sweden was reassured when he elbowed Denmark in the ribs to wake him, the Dane had just started to doze nearly strangling the smaller of the three. As soon as they could regain their footing and Denmark and Norway had more colour to their faces the Swede set out following their father's orders to protect his siblings should the need arise.

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They began the long trek back to the ship going along just the outskirts of town thanking the gods that the stench wasn't as bad anymore, but that still ended with Norway calling forth more fire to rid them of the sour smell of already decaying and festering flesh. "Disgusting." Norway mumbled leaning on Sweden on his right Denmark on his left a weird expression plastered on his face mixed with a greenish hue that suggested the tenderness of his stomach, on a normal day Sweden would have jumped at the chance to make the Dane vomit, said Dane _hated _vomiting with a passion from the general discomfort of the feeling of bile in one's throat to the actual action Denmark hated it all to the point where he would swallow it just to preserve his pride, that's what Sweden guessed the face was for.

The nations managed to drag themselves into the wheat field, Denmark eventually retching. The three managed to collapse halfway though the wheat field all breathing heavy and Denmark complaining of a headache, and wanting to sleep. "Sweeeden whyyyyy do you have to be so meeeean?" He whimpered groggily but rolled over when Norway punched him irritably in the stomach.

"'Cause y'u c'n't s'eep. Y'u'll d'e."

"Oh." Came the nervous reply that was fallowed by some sort of nervous laugh/ cough. "Does that mean that we can leave?"

"This is the best raid we've had in a while, we stay on the coast. But we'll find a nice town to spend a while in until we've recovered." Norway stood up wobbling a little bit, it was almost as if his episode had never happened and he was his normal shy self- well he wasn't shy when he was with the other Vikings. He tended to come out of his shell: if only slightly.

Denmark groaned and slumped against Sweden after experiencing another wave of nausea. Their rivalry and been forgotten. For now.

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Slightly longer chapter, I need reviews, how do I know if I'm doing Sweden's accent right or if they are to OOC or not IC. I'm not THAT scary… am I?

What Norway was feeling with the dizziness I've felt multiple times so I just described what I felt (Me and blood just don't get along.) and with Sweden being slightly shorter than Denmark in this, well I just thought that it would be interesting if one of the tallest nations was short once.


	3. Denmark Gets A Girlfriend

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Characters: Norway, Denmark, Sweden, France, England, Scotland, and some little French girl- you get the idea.

Austria: No we don't

Sterling: T_T

Just a fair warning this chapter's going to be sad

Place: Somewhere in the world

Date: 8th-11th Centuries

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Sweden dragged the other two Nordics down the steep sloping ditch, loose rocks tumbling as he nearly fell- twice- only to catch himself at the last minute supporting his two injured brothers, letting Denmark fall as soon as he came to the makeshift fire pit. Aforementioned Dane crumpled into a messy heap and started to whimper pathetically about a splitting headache. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his arms, trying to stop the pounding.

After gently setting a half conscious Norway down against a large piece of drift wood Sweden clamored up the side of the beached ship and dug through their meager possessions dropping their loot near the stern. He traded his own pack for an elk stomach canteen, checking for any sign of fresh water before he slipped off the boat and walked to the water's edge filling the canteen with salt water to tend to Denmark's wound with.

Sweden picked his way across the rocky beach as soon as there was enough water in the bag, wincing as a few of the sharper rocks dug into his feet. He arrived at the younger nation's side. It was amusing how silent he was, saving it for later he nudged the slightly larger nation to wake him from his doze. "D'n't s'e'p." Sweden said, oblivious to the intimidating aura that seamed to surround him. His brother's blue eyes snapped open warily eyeing the elk bag. Forcing the younger of the two onto his back Sweden made to start the process of cleaning the wound so it wouldn't get infected. Though nations couldn't die it was an inconvenience when they had to be dragged around so they weren't buried. The Swedish nation was forced back into reality from his musings thanks to Denmark letting out a feeble moan, clutching at the wound; it already looked red and irritated. Sighing the Swede tore a piece of cloth that he'd found during the raid and soaked it in the canteen. He gently pried Denmark's hands away from his head casting a sidelong glance over at Norway who had migrated to Denmark's side some time between when he set the Dane down and when he had started to clean his wound; coaxing the younger nation into letting him actually clean said wound. The gash wasn't that deep and could easily heal, that was if it wasn't already infected- but knowing Denmark and his habit of getting into trouble it probably already was.

Bracing himself against Denmark and the struggle he was almost surly going to put up the Swede began to gently dab at the wound in an attempt to get the blood-caked hair out of it along with any dirt that might have started to irritate it. Ignoring the desperate pleas that he was hurting him. The oldest of the three nations just brushed off his comments and dipped the cloth back into the bag, cold salt water biting at his hands. Denmark gave a genuine yelp when Sweden pressed a little to hard; he instinctively pulled back a feeling a pang of sadness at his little brother's discomfort. Though the knowledge that he was saving him from a far worse fate seamed to help him feel slightly better. Not long after the water had turned a dark pinkish color was it all over and Sweden was wrapping a clean cloth around the Dane's head to keep from further irritation.

Denmark sighed as he nestled down between Sweden and Norway, eye's gleaming in the soft light of the fire that Sweden had recently made; watching the hues of blues and greens as they danced in a sea of reds and gold's. After a while the younger Dane turned to his brother, head against the older male's left shoulder, as he finally spoke what was on his mind. "Can I sleep yet?" The burning words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Sweden just looked at him a slight amount of shock on his face at his normally loud brother's meek voice. Ignoring the out-of-character quietness Sweden turned his burning gaze to the horizon. "No." was the enunciated reply, a firm order in his voice. Shadows danced across the Swede's face as his gaze turned back to his younger brothers- Norway slouched against Denmark, the Dane gazing at the fire. After feeling the heat of his older brother's gaze he turned his head so he was looking Sweden in the eye, a hint of pleading in his own blue ones. Sighing the older nation reached out with his right hand to place his hand on his brother's head only to wince at the splinter (it was more like a chunk of wood) still lodged into his shoulder. Recoiling and Denmark smirking slightly at the older nation's discomfort Sweden turned his head to inspect the wound.

The crooked smirk faded however when Sweden effortlessly pulled the splinter from his shoulder without so much as a wince. The two sat though the rest of the night in silence, Sweden bandaging his shoulder and Denmark secretly sulking at his supposed weakness; a mute fear stricken into him about falling asleep and dying so much that he forced Sweden to stay up with him the rest of the night.

Sol was just peaking over the horizon to find a grand scene of a leveled village, the smell of smoke rising from it's grave, and further west- down by the ocean- three brothers groggily securing their belongings on the dragon vessel, ready to sail to their second raid site for the season. The three brothers liked the area, however, they needed to terrorize England now, spread the love a bit- ya know? But this would be the main attraction for them and their people in the following years.

Denmark lagged behind his brothers- even Norway who was _not_ a morning person and Sweden had more energy than him even though they'd both stood up all night. How, the younger didn't know- he just figured older brothers were weird like that. The three brothers slunk onto the ship and set off for England's territory.

Just over halfway to England (for they had just spotted land, and with Norway's exceptional navigational skills they had made good time so it was still quite light out.) they had run into a dilemma. Now this little predicament was nothing short of downright terrifying. Vikings who dealt with the most horrid of monsters could not even begin to fathom the sheer evil that was dealt upon the ship. It seamed that the little girl that Denmark had terrorized had snuck onboard and fallen asleep behind a random crate that held loot. The three seemed to be able to identify the predicament almost as soon as it raised its ugly head.

The little girl looked at Sweden and Norway first, and then proceeded to cry. Norway stumbled backwards, with a look of pure repulsion at the high-pitched noise. Sweden, however, had a grater tolerance- he _did _have to deal with both Denmark and Norway's bickering- and knelt down to the girl's level. He spoke to her gently promising no harm, even though she couldn't understand. "_O-où est mon P-papa_?" She sniffed, shying away from Sweden. She huddled against the crate until she saw Denmark dozing off where he shouldn't be. Wasting no time on pleasantries she darted over –nearly tripping over her own two feet- to get to the injured Dane to curl up at his side like the Swede's younger brother's sometimes did. Nestling to his side -comforted by a familiar face like children normally were- she fell asleep leaving Denmark to jerk out of his stupor at the new presence beside him.

The Dane looked groggily at the young burnet a tired but goofy smile on his face. "Hey Norge," He said lazily catching the younger's attention, "I got a girlfriend." The Norwegian just rolled his eyes and walked away letting the fact go that Denmark couldn't have a girlfriend- at least in his book.

"We'll get rid of her later." Was all Norway said irritated blue eyes focusing venomously on the girl.

"N'rw'y th't's en'gh." Sweden snapped at the other Nordic's bad temper. Shaking his head at his youngest brother the Swede focused on keeping Denmark awake. He'd let the Dane rest as soon as they'd landed and the younger male said he didn't have a headache anymore. It couldn't be long now as land had already made itself known to the nations. Today was- so far- a good day, well as good as a day with an injured Dane, a jealous Norwegian, (though he tried to hide it) a six year-old that was intimidated by said Norwegian, and a very exasperated Swede.

They had managed to get within walking distance of a town- it was some place on the coast (they didn't bother remembering the names of towns.) Sweden dragged- well more like carried a very unwilling Denmark over to a sheltered area who seemed to be completely humiliated at that little fact and put up so much of a fuss that he made Sweden let him walk with the older nation supporting his weight. The latter of the two having dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping in the past twenty-four hours. The little girl joined them as she gave a small yawn and promptly fell asleep on Denmark making him grunt as she let her head fall heavily on his stomach.

Sighing Sweden went to check on Norway worrying what the nation could be up to. It wasn't the best of ideas to leave the youngest Nordic off by himself knowing his dislike for their newfound 'friend'. The blonde walked back down to the shoreline. The outline of Norway leaning against a boulder, the tide was beginning to come in as the Norwegian watched the sun set from his vantage point on the beach. "Sweden." Came a distant greeting the younger of the two not even bothering to turn his head in the other's direction the way he said it almost sounded like he wanted to say more but stopped him self before that happened. The larger country warily approached the younger male.

Norway was known for his shy nature but the older nation knew something was wrong with the smaller teen and the way he looked out into the ocean. The Swede stood behind him and cast his gaze on to the smaller of the two Nordics. The words Sweden was about to say died in this throat as he turned and walked away. The Norwegian could take care of himself- that was a well-known fact for sure. However, what was on his mind was entirely different. Sweden crashed though the sparse grasses on the crest of a sand dune that made up a large part of the beach. The wispy green-yellow stalks brushed past him as he padded over to the rocky outcrop that was nearly next to his ship.

Denmark blinked groggily, eyes trained on the sunset. The little girl from the unknown country sleeping next to him, the six year-old hadn't spoken a word that they could understand- well except that one sentence that was about her 'Papa'- since they found her onboard the dragon ship. Tearing his eyes from the horizon the blond nation caught sight of his older brother walking toward him. Noticing that Norway was nowhere near the tall nation made him wary- Norway had been found- right? Or was he really just that short? He doubted that he could slip past the older nations superior tracking abilities. Denmark scoffed openly at the ridiculous thought- Norway could take care of himself. The Dane shifted as his older brother settled beside him. He knew with a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be able to go on the next- and last- raid. Denmark tenderly touched his bandaged head wound, wincing; he couldn't even walk without staggering around like a drunk let alone run with sharp, inanimate objects lopping peoples heads off. Now that he thought about it he probably should have changed the bandages.

On the bright side his headache had subsided though and he felt like he could sleep. He leaned against his older brother, putting his head on his shoulder his own body tense should Sweden try to keep him awake. When the Swede met no objections the younger nation tightened his grip around the little girl pulling her closer to him while he nuzzled his brother's shoulder subconsciously. Sweden watched from the corner of his eye as Denmark slipped from consciousness, the final rays of sunlight disappearing soon after. He waited for Norway to return but his own exhaustion insisted otherwise. In a final attempt to blink sleep from his eyes Sweden noticed his youngest brother approaching him- that is after shooting a look at the little girl. The older male figured that he had gotten used to being the youngest and was adjusting to the new presence to their small family- that or he was incredibly shy. "I'm back." Norway said distantly. Sweden nodded and motioned for him to lie down. The younger complied and reclined to look up at the stars, the night sky reflecting in his deep blue eyes.

Norway heard his oldest brother's breathing even out. Casting his eyes from the sky he looked on with envy at his older brothers, they didn't have to deal with this curse. They could fight and it not bother them, they could bathe in blood and it wouldn't bother them while he could barely get a few kills in before The Influence lessoned and shear will no longer worked. He closed his eyes- oh yes he wished he could be like them, the gods probably thought him a coward, only being able to use magic and not really be able to fight. Norway made a silent promise to himself that night- to be better than his brothers and even his own father, it sounded stupid but an untamed voice whispered in his mind about power, glory, and anything he could dream of. A burning ambition deep inside him wanted to outshine his brothers and prove his father wrong. He might not have the look of a killer but he sure had the heart of one. Norway drifted off to sleep, a faint look of satisfaction on his face.

~~Hetalia~~

France was pissed- no he was more than just pissed. He was so pissed he could put piss to shame by how pissed he was- and that in itself was quite the feat. The Frenchman had prided himself in not being attacked by those-those barbarians! Ever since the monastery incident he had managed keeping out of those bastards way. Now they attack one of _his _towns killing _his _people and kidnapping one of the orphans _he_ was taking care of. The thought of one of _his _children receiving such treatment left him shaking with rage that boiled just below the surface. He had to do something about this. Remembering what England said about three countries from the north that had cold blue eyes and hair so light it looked bleached by the sun. He remembered them and Marie had described a boy with sun-bleached hair and cold blue eyes 'eating the dirt.'

France remembered the terror of his people as those _individuals_ struck them down. Had he not been stupid enough to forget England's warning than he might have gone out with his rapier and killed the barbarian, but the invader probably wouldn't have fought honorably. The nation scowled. He had planed to come to this quaint town just outside of Le Havre and enjoy the sun. Though he couldn't help but feel a little more triumphant that the Northern peoples didn't know that there was the slightly larger fishing village just a day's walk down the road.

The Frenchman had sent out a few survivors to warn the costal towns of the unwanted visitors so they too could prepare for the barbarians. It was going to be a long summer.

_Hetalia_

_Screams lit up the light-polluted night sky as the blazing inferno illuminated the burning monastery. Blood soaked the ground as monsters danced in the shadows. Ice-y blue eyes seemed to glow in the half-light that the fire gave off. Their faces, chests, and arms were stained with the crimson blood of his people. This was the first time his little world that something like this had happened. The small English boy cried and tried to run away from the barbarians, tears streaming down his small face. The largest one cut off his exit and he screamed as the light blond adult bared his teeth at him banishing his battle axe in a menacing manor threatening to take his head off almost succeeding until the young boy's legs began to work again and he ran down another corridor. _

_He squealed as the small glass windows blew out of the squat building and the wooden roof caved in sending a shower of embers and soot into the air. He fell as a body collapsed on top of him. By now his face was smeared with dirt, tears, and blood, traumatized eyes looked over his shoulder dreading what he was to find. His mouth froze open in shock as he tried to keep his stomach calm from the shear terror as he realized the person's face had been crushed in. Following the hammer from the person's face he made eye contact with blazing dark blue eyes and sun-bleached, blood-streaked, blond hair. The other boy was panting heavily from swinging around the heavy hammer. He didn't seem to notice the younger child was alive from the person falling on him. The nation squeezed his eyes shut, the cold unfeeling stone cut into his hands and face. He shivered at his failed attempt to get out of the small courtyard and get as far away as possible._

_As soon as the other boy got the pieces of gold that the older man on top of him had possession of the barbarian had darted off using his nimble speed to get around his fellow Vikings and their pillaging. A large one- but not as large at the one with the long messy hair had a desperate monk pinned to the wall with his broad sword, another brave monk sneaking up behind him in an attempt to stop the killing of his friend. As he- the monster- raised his giant sword to dispatch the body beneath him a new soul entered the fray- the one from earlier, hammer and all. England nearly vomited as the smallest barbarian there waved his hand and the man sneaking up behind the large one burst into flames. The young nation was paralyzed, a sick, hypnotized, curiosity taking over his body as he watched the invaders kill with such grace that only he could dream of in his cubby, child-like body. _

_England came to his senses and wiggled out from underneath the corpse scraping his hands even more on the blood-soaked stone that hindered his attempts at freedom. The nation rain across the courtyard adrenaline and terror making his tiny heart beat faster. He almost made it; he could almost feel the rough grain of the large oak wood doors beneath his small, round, child-like hands until he was knocked from his position. Slamming onto his side the child looked into the heartless eyes of the monster just as it slammed down its broad sword…_

Scotland awoke with a start to hear one of his younger brothers screams. Three guesses as to who it was. The older male reluctantly tore himself from his blankets a blank look on his countenance.

Scotland entered England's room after stumbling around in the darkness for a little while- he would not admit to getting /_almost_/lost, not to mention the foul mood he was in after he missed the door and gave a kiss to the tapestry instead only added to his misery of being awaken before dawn; the older nation groggily slunk over to the shivering mass of covers that was none other than what would be the British Empire- but he doesn't need to know that- yet. Scotland sat at the edge of the younger's bed, his normal 'hostility' towards him forgotten in a rare show of brotherly love. The ginger sighed and pulled the covers from his younger brother grumbling under his breath all the while, wincing as the small child yelped and proceeded to bawl, fat tears running down his face, throat wailing an undistinguishable word. Shaking his head the older male let his little brother cling to his shirt in an effort to console him as he cried. The Scotsman ruffled his red hair as he blinked the sleep from his own eyes, stifling a yawn with his right hand. Those monsters sure seamed to keep his little brother awake at night, but it would be nice to know who the monsters where. He vaguely wondered if it was Scandinavia's brats, after all one of his children had killed his mother when she saved England one fateful night. The Scotsman shook off the thought, he doubted it was Scandinavia's boys, he had figured that they were still mourning the lost of their father but his little brother had been suffering from an abnormal amount of attacks from the coast. He had tried asking England who they were; he even went and sought out the Picts to see if they knew anything of the sort. The redhead moved to get up to find a pair of wide emerald green eyes staring up at him pleadingly. "Pwease stay h-here." Came the watery request. He looked to much like their mother than what was good for him- even _Ireland _looked more like their mother and he had lighter green eyes and de-saturated brown hair, Scotland, however, didn't look anything like her- or so he thought.

Scotland thought for a while only to shake himself from his stupor, going against his better judgment, and not taking into account what his younger brother needed (he was inexperienced at the time in the art of caring for younger brothers) the sleepy red-head answered, "No." The older male got up and turned to leave. He surprisingly found his way back to his quarters in less than half the time it took to find England. Funny how that works…

Scotland hadn't so much as started to doze again when he felt a presence beside him. Jolting into a sitting position the nation squinted in the darkness only to find a very shocked England at the foot of his bed face set in the classical caught-with-a-hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression. The nation groaned; he knew that the wee lad had followed him from his own quarters and was too scared to go back to said quarters and Scotland was **NOT **getting back out of bed again. The red head growled a faint tinge of pink dusting his cheeks and ears at the thought of how soft he was being- but his brother looked so much like her how could he be so _heartless? _The adolescent bit his bottom lip and let out a string of Gaelic curses. Why? **WHY** did he have to care so much? Letting out a defeated sigh after what seemed like an eternity of the two just staring at each other, emerald against a rich forest green. Grinding his teeth Scotland picked the little boy up earning a badly suppressed squeak of surprise at the unexpected action. Scotland then pulled the covers back over himself and reclined with England resting on his chest. He rubbed the smaller nation's back in a rare display of affection. England lay still as his brother rubbed circles into his back a blissful smile plastered on his face as he fell asleep listening to his older brother's heartbeat.

Scotland could practically feel the sun rising; however, he couldn't find it in him to fall asleep. It wasn't that he wasn't tired it was just that he had felt a sense of paranoia come over him- almost as if something-or someone for that matter was telling him that something bad was going to happen that day. The Scotsman wouldn't admit it to himself but he was scared- not for England, or Wales, or Ireland, or- just no! So get that thought out of your head that he was a caring older brother. Because he most certainly was _not_ said caring brother, he was just holding England just to keep him from waking him up again, yeah that was it! Scotland kept telling himself that he wasn't soft as he drifted back to sleep a faint voice that sounded suspiciously like Wales tugging at the back of his mind telling him not to lie to himself. The read head just hoped all of this madness would be over soon and he and England could go back to hating each other again.

~Hetalia~

Norway huddled closer to Sweden a frown on his face as it seamed the nightmares had come to play with his already delicate sleep. Chilly air bit his skin- but to him it had the potency of an enraged fire.

_Norway was enjoying every moment of this raid; everything that he had desired was before him. He'd prove his father wrong today; a ghost of a smile graced his features as the moon- bleached a golden red from the burning fire below made his normally dull eyes shine, outlining his features and making him more intimidating._

_The Norwegian stooped down while swinging his hammer up forcing the young monk's head back and snapping his neck with the force. As the body crumpled to the ground the teen noticed a suspicious figure trying to sneak out of the courtyard arms full with texts, a golden cross around his neck. Norway darted foreword, muttering a spell under his breath in an attempt to heal him self a little bit. The man turned as the young Viking swung his hammer hitting him square in the face, the sickly crunch of bone and the smell of blood and gore filled the scorching air around them._

_The body fell backwards from the force of the blow added to the unsuspected weight of the hammer that the body came into impact with. Norway noticed a small body under the older man but figured nothing of it as the child was frozen in shock, his face was covered in blood so the young Viking just figured the he had been killed by one of his brothers or their father. Norway took the gold from the man and turned, loping off to help Sweden who was about to be hit with some sort of wood from a table leg of something. _

_Blue eyes narrowed as the young male called forth all his rage and channeled it into heating the body up until it spontaneously combusted. The monk screamed in agony and attempted to put the fire out by himself only to succeed in making it spread to more parts of his body, the thick wool self-extinguishing only to be relit as his flesh burned. The man was dead in only a few seconds and Norway turned his attention to someone trying to sneak away behind him. Freezing the other person as soon as he laid eyes on him Norway felt a cry of surprise die in his throat as he saw a beautiful woman appear from seemingly nowhere. She was at the wooden doors that led out of the monastery. Norway could see rage filling her beautiful sharp forest green eyes, her white dress and wheat blonde hair flying about her as she pulled a sword from her person ready to thrust it into Denmark's back as he raised his sword to kill the little boy that Norway had thought had died. He wasn't close enough to help his brother and he slowly felt himself loosing energy as The Influence receded. He knew he didn't have the strength to muster another spell or curse. The Viking was frozen in shock as the two swords came to try and reach their mark when Denmark was knocked out of the way from the woman's sword and their father took his place. Time seemed to freeze as the man fell light leaving his electric blue eyes. Norway didn't register anything else after that all he knew was that he had run to his father's side, shame evident in his eyes. _

_Somewhere behind him Denmark had gotten to his feet and had started fighting the woman his battered broad sword sparking against his lighting his fierce blue eyes and the tears that streamed from them. Tears and blood blurred the taller Dane's vision; his attacks were desperate, blinded by grief and rage. Norway's attention was focused on his father as he shakily started to mutter a healing spell under his breath, trying to keep focused, his hands over the stomach wound slowly becoming saturated with scarlet. A green light formed under them as he transferred his energy from his own body to Scandinavia vaguely noticing Sweden run past him followed by the wailing scream of a child. His vision was beginning to narrow when his father broke his concentration. _

_Norway hadn't expected the shove to be so strong coming from his father who was so weak. He almost bashed his head only to be caught by Sweden. The Norwegian looked down to find his hands stained with blood- his father's blood. His mind reeled; he had __**killed**__ their father. Had he made sure that the child was dead this wouldn't have happened. Norway felt himself tremble as his body went into shock._

"_S-weden take care," Scandinavia whispered pausing to cough, blood seeping from his lips as he made a face, "…O-f them, especially…" he older male grunted, turning his eyes to Denmark who was kneeling by his head, still in tears, "Denma-ark… G-give him my axe…" Norway had to turn away as he felt the tears well up in his eyes as his head pounded. He leaned into Sweden's blood soaked tunic. There was too much blood. There was too much to take in._

"_No…no…" Denmark whimpered, being the closest of the three of them to their father. Norway felt himself breakdown at Denmark's next choice of words. "D-dad please." The nation began to hyperventilate, tears welling back up in his eyes. Sweden had managed to pull the Dane away from the dead body leaving his youngest brother lying half stunned in the grime of the fight. "I-it's al-l y-your fa-ult N-Norway." Denmark accused after being pinned against Sweden who had dragged him away from their dead father._

"_En'gh." Sweden choked out through gritted teeth as he began to drag Denmark back to the boat grabbing the battle-axe along the way. "L't's g' N'rw'y." Sweden mumbled a few rare tears making a trail down his face…_

Norway jerked awake to find that he was crying silently. Startled at the sudden show of emotion he tried to sit up only to find that he was sitting against Sweden who was wide-awake. He vaguely noticed Denmark wallowing in grief at the other end of the bolder; the smoke from a newly made fire crafted from green wood made his figure shrouded and blurry- or was it just him? "Wha-" The younger male began only to be cut off by his older brother.

"Y' w'r' sl'p'ng wh'n y' st'rt'd cr'ng 'nd thr'sh'ng 'n y'r sl'p." Sweden explained a faint breeze carrying his soft, barely audible words over to a stunned Norwegian. The whisper of the blades of grass; stained a dark sulfur highlighted against a dark velvet of the night sky, the moon just off center hinting that it was just past midnight. Norway just nodded Sweden had moved to sit beside him tending to the fire with a stick. Embers shot up and danced in the sky before dousing and falling back to earth as silver flecks- almost as if the stars were falling.

_Hetalia_

Sweden didn't remember when he fell asleep again after Norway had awakened with his nightmare and kicking him in the stomach in the process of doing so. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about Norway killing the child as she had slept straight though the ordeal.

The Swede was, as usual, the first one awake. He sat propped against the cold stone gazing out into the warm and cool colors of the predawn sky. Deciding that he would take a walk before he awoke his brothers to begin the raid the Swede stood and brushed the stubborn pieces of grass off of him walking down to the beach and into the boat to pilfer a little bit of before meal salted fish.

He walked across the soft white sand frowning, as the small grains seemed to find a way into his boots and bothered his feet. The nation sighed as he reached his ship- a modest thing- it was small for Viking ships and had the dragon head at the front sort of how the Mediterranean's had their "eyes" to protect them from evils that could very well lay ahead of them- not that he doubted his youngest brothers navigational abilities- no, he wasn't like that. The nation leaned against the hull and emptied his boots that were full of the tiny pieces of sand.

When he had emptied the sand from his leather shoes he clamored aboard the ship and snatched a small piece of salted fish and a hidden horn of mead. Wolfing down the sliver of fish so he wasn't caught in the action of thieving- he knew how much Norway liked his seafood. He washed down the dehydrating substance with the alcohol and hid the horn conspicuously, after all no one bothered looking for something in plain sight, right? The blond jumped down out of the humble but still intimidating vessel and headed back to his two brothers to wake them for the raid, now just what they'd do with the child, well that was up to Denmark as she seemed to like him oh so much.

The oldest male arrived back at their little makeshift camp to find both brothers still sound asleep. After following his routine of kicking the Dane until he woke up the Swede turned his attention from the grumbling teen to his youngest brother wondering about what could possibly happen to his already short temper now that he lost sleep. So seeing as there wasn't really anything interesting going on he figured that he would let the Dane wake Norway up. He hadn't turned his back for more than five seconds when a loud, "_Danmark_!" Followed by a indignant, "_Du er en idiot!_" Sweden let out a frustrated sigh; at least his brothers were feeling better.

"D'nmark h'd' h'r." Sweden ordered to the Dane- who had a groggy six year-old attached to his cape. One could say it almost looked really cute- that is if they didn't know who it was and they had absolutely no relation what so ever.

"Aww but Sweden!"

" N'. N'w g'." The Swede pointed in the opposite direction leaving the Dane to pout and stalk off with the small girl in tow.

_Hetalia_

"Sweden's a big meanie isn't he?" Denmark vented to the child only to realize that she had absolutely no clue as to what he was saying… at all… though it seemed that Denmark really didn't care- or just didn't notice- or both. They walked for a few minutes into a deeper part of the forest to come to a large tree with a sturdy 'Y' shape bough large enough to make a hammock with his cape for the girl to hide in, there was just enough leaves to use a camouflage too. Denmark fastened the clasp on the top of the 'Y' and tied a sturdy knot that he'd learned from Sweden towards the lower end of said 'Y' shape. The cape was long enough to make a sturdy hammock and the brown, coarse, wool helped to insulate against the frosty bite of the morning air. The Dane teen picked up the little girl and placed her in the hammock- said hammock almost tipped and dumped said girl on the ground when she tried to peak over at said Dane who placed her in said hammock. However, though there was way too many words that go by the name of 'said' there was actually no verbal communication.

"Stay here 'mkay?" Denmark asked his eyebrows raised in a half comical/ half questioning expression. The girl had absolutely **no **idea as to what the male nation had said but she just figured that since she couldn't escape that she'd just stay in the hammock. The Dane backed away uncertainty half wondering if he should take her and hide her on the ship, but he figured that she would be able to follow him better and seeing as he had taken a liking to her he didn't want her to get killed. She kind of reminded him of Norway when he was little.

A goofy smile graced his features as he turned around with a good feeling in the pit of his stomach. Now all he had to do was convince Sweden that he was fit enough to go on the raid and not be quote 'back up'. The blond turned and strode away marking a tree every so often with his hunting knife so he wouldn't forget where the girl- and his cape- were. The birds sung in the trees and the sweet smell of morning dew hung in the air, the rustle of the trees serving as a soft balance to the breathing sigh of the ocean. Sheathing his knife he exhaled closing his azure colored eyes and taking in his surroundings, today was a good day for a raid.

* * *

Aaaaaand I'm back in business! Over 6,300 words for you lovely people ^^ did you see how long those dream sequences were? England's was just over a page and Norway's was two and a half pages I had to fill in some stuff so you people know where Norway got his dislike for blood, Denmark his axe, and when the Ancients died. (I almost started crying when I wrote Norway's dream T_T) BUT isn't Scotland such a _loving_older brother.

The sentence with all of the 'said' 's was done on **purpose **same thing with the opening sentence with France- I have a sort of smart ** sense of humor ^^'

Norwegian translation: Danmark! Du er en idiot! = Denmark! You are an idiot!

French translation: Où est mon papa? (Pronounced: ooh eh mon papa) = Where is my papa?

About the whole falling asleep and dying: If you fall asleep with a massive migraine/ headache/ thing especially after a head wound you could dye from brain swelling.

The seawater: Saltwater can clean wounds

Historical notes:

'…the monastery incident…' that was actually the first raid by the Vikings in 793 (A.D. but I'm assuming you already know that) in Lindisfarne in England

'…wouldn't have fought honorably…" Vikings used the element of surprise- that same element that France tried to take away (but as you can see failed because today we have Normandy :D )

'…squat building…' the buildings- i.e. the monastery were actually very squat and dark because of the building material meaning that they didn't have many windows. They also had wooded roofs that very easily caught fire.

'…Mediterranean 'eye'…" In the Mediterranean some sailors still to this day paint eyes on the side of their boats to keep away the 'evil eye' and gain a good catch.

The little girl- the little girl represents the hostages the Vikings took sometimes on their raids these people were normally turned into slaves from what I hear.

The Pict- a mysterious ancient group that lived in Scotland. But you've probably already stopped reading.


	4. Malicious Flora

Disclaimer: Because I totally own Hetalia, I just let them barrow it… (Translation: I don't own Hetalia so please don't sue me I haz no moneyz! T_T)

Characters: Norway, Sweden, Denmark, England, Scotland, Elisabeth the maid, and Marie

Place: England's House

Date: 8th- 11th Centuries

* * *

Denmark practically pranced down the trail hopes high for Sweden letting him participate in the fast approaching raid. The misty fog seemed to gravitate toward him clinging to his tunic, his skin, and his hair nearly soaking him to the bone without his waterproof cloak. He really hoped the little girl would be all right seeing as there was no one to stand guard to protect her from frost giants or elves or stuff like that- especially the nightly. Those were the worst! They sat on your chest and made you dream terrible things as they fed off of your fear and agony. The thought alone made Denmark shiver in discomfort. And don't even get him started about Dark ones. They were pretty much the same as the night terrors, only they possessed your body to bring harm to yourself and possibly others. Then if you died while under their control then your body and soul would be forced to wonder between worlds, it was a terrible fate that no one should have to suffer through. By now the adolescent had almost stopped walking too engrossed in his thoughts to continue meandering along the trail for much longer. While he was walking about as fast as a snail he brushed by an old gnarly tree whose branches were rudely hanging over the trail. To any person that was aware of the rude flora they would skirt around it whilst completely ignoring it in the process.

The tree thought that- seeing as Denmark wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings- he would be fun to scare. Almost as if on cue the nation in question brushed against one of the twigs. The spindly piece of wood, very much shaped like a finger, brushed lightly against Denmark's cheek spooking the young country. Having been scared out of his stupor the blond flinched and threw a sharp swing towards the tree. A clearly audible 'pop' rang out through the deathly silent forest as he cracked his knuckles against the hard wood of the ancient, somewhat spiteful tree. Once again flinching the young Danish male quickly recoiled at the unexpected sharp pain, a tinge of scarlet highlighting his face from the embarrassment for being scared of an old, gnarly tree that was supposedly minding its own business doing whatever trees did at that hour. Looking around to make sure that no one had seen his blunder Denmark slowly edged away from above-mentioned tree before remembering that he had somewhere to be and that if he didn't hurry he was going to be late. Muttering a few curses under his breath in Danish the nation darted off along the trail, undergrowth whipping by him in a green and brown mass of color as he loped along the winding- sometimes patchy trail that lead back to his brothers.

Having had no run-ins with any other type of malicious vegetation the blue-eyed nation made it back to the camp to see his brothers about ready to leave him to stay and be 'back up'. Now **that **was an absurd thought in and of its self.

Denmark had finally managed to drop in on them-quite literally I might add- after a failed attempt to glomp a passing Norway, who had been in an even fouler –if that was possible- mood then normal that morning because of his lack of sleep. The mere action of having his personal space invaded made Norway slightly more malevolent side to show as he held out his foot for Denmark to trip over as he regained his balance. The action caused Denmark to not only fail at regaining his balance- but then he really had none to begin with- but also fall face first into a –thankfully- grassy ditch on the right side of his younger brother. Denmark groaned as he got yet another mouthful of la dirt avec grass, a dish that was not his personal favorite for… painfully obvious reasons. "Noooorwayyyy." The older of the two whined at the cruelty of his younger brother. Denmark still hadn't skipped a beat. He sprang from his sprawling position on the hard ground his head slightly spinning from his fall making him dizzy. He staggered over to Sweden who had just been standing there, broadsword in hand, watching his younger brother's one-sided banter. The metal from his sword was misted over by the fog but as the sun caught the blade the metal lit up and seamed to glint in the early morning light giving the metal an ethereal appearance. Spitting out a mixture of grass and dirt the Danish Viking pompously brushed himself off. Figuring that now was the best of times to confront his brother now that he had his attention the nation flashed his signature grin at said older brother. "Sweeedeen~" He whined drawing out his 'e' knowing full well that his brother hated whining almost as much as snakes but hey at least it held his attention, right?

"Wh't d' y' w'nt?" Sweden drawled marine colored eyes hardening at the tone of voice his not-so-little little brother chose to use. Sweden had to admit he was somewhat suspicious of what his brother was going to be asking for. And he had a bad feeling that he knew what that something was. Denmark on the other hand was completely oblivious to the irritated look that his brother was sending him and proceeded to pester aforementioned older brother about the raid. There was still the probability that he wouldn't be able to go due to his injuries but the Dane toughed it out just for the last chance to fight for the season. Autumn was fast approaching and the three knew it. This raid was a risk all in its self but the brothers were confident that they could pull it off, they had left early spring and had spent weeks out on the sea. It was by sheer luck that they had found the mysterious country that had struck it rich for them. But one more raid wouldn't harm anyone, would it? Well besides the country they were raiding but it wasn't like they had the guts to come out and face them.

Sweden scrutinized his brother up close, eyes seeming to try and force out any secrets that the young nation was attempting to keep from him. But now wasn't the time to truly figure out if he was fit enough to fight.

Denmark was pale with dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep that came from dealing with the aftermath of Norway's ordeal. Now _that_ was something that the three could agree that was never to be brought up again. They didn't need the pain of their father's recent death to hang over them like a cloud of bad luck. That and it wasn't good for their health, but we'll just stick with bad luck for now. The eldest nation really couldn't find a good reason to let his younger brother participate other than the fact, he- to put it bluntly- looked like something that would live with the Ice Queen her self. The bandage around his head was slightly dirty and bloodied from the wound that it concealed. And while yes Denmark was paler than what was normal for him, his face was flushed from sprinting with his battle-axe. However, the other side of Sweden's brain reasoned, other than that he looks to be perfectly fine physically. The older male sighed and rested his head in his palm biting back a remark. Denmark was probably going to follow them anyway should he say 'no' but it was best to make sure, however they were wasting too much time anyway, this had to be quick. "W'll y' f'll'w 's 'f I s' n'?" Sweden question watching as Denmark's expression changed from a hopeful one to a slightly quizzical one as he deciphered his brother's question.

"Yep!" Came the over enthusiastic reply. Sharing a look with Norway the older Swedish nation turned on his heel and began to walk toward the raid site with his youngest brother following close behind leaving a very dumbfounded Denmark in the middle of a dusty, winding trail all by himself to be left to whatever creatures that lurked in the woodland.

Suddenly finding that he was alone in the middle of an early morning forest that was currently very close to the other worlds Denmark speed walked to catch up to his brothers. It wasn't like he was _scared_ or anything- pfft! He was the Great Denmark; he wasn't scared of anything… well… maybe…nope! Nothing came to mind! Denmark walked with his head held high in triumph, the mere fact that Sweden didn't object meant that he could participate. Smirking victoriously the Dane strutted past Norway who was sort of lagging behind almost as if in the same deep thought that he'd been in earlier.

The green leaves of the trees seemed to stand above the swirling mist that Norway had summoned from the ocean and was currently dragging it along with them to the merchant town that lay ahead. They could almost see it though the few trees that remained as they reached the edge of the forest.

The green and brown backdrop of the woodland behind them would serve nicely for a bright contrast to the fire the town was about to go up in. Peace against chaos that was how it worked- wasn't it? They could see the village just a little ways down the road, cobblestone streets and all. Further still in the distance, the looming presence of a castle a distant sign of the strength of the town- but it was useless. These were the early days of feudalism- they- the Vikings were unstoppable. So you could say that they didn't care about the castle anyway, the villages were much easier to raid. Well…easier yes… but the walled cities were the best- as a matter-of-fact the City of London was the jackpot, however it seemed that they could only hear about it as no one had raided it, and it was a bit far away for their taste so… that brought you to these wonderful townships. They didn't have walls and news moved _so_ _slowly_ that they still could catch them by surprise but yet they still had good possessions just lying around. Well that and having Norway who was able to preform magic did help…a little… O.K. fine… it helped a lot.

Said Norwegian was able to pull the mist and fog down to the village effectively confusing the locals, that and the little surprise that he added so they- the village people- would be lethargic for a short period of time making the action of robbing them blind much easier on the three seeing as they didn't have as many men as a normal bunch of Vikings did, and seeing as it was popular with the kids they wouldn't have any idea where all the good places to raid were so there was a chance that it wasn't raided before. Denmark suddenly felt happy that their father had told them about all of the good places before…

The young Danish Viking cleared his throat and plastered his signature grin on his face at the thought of lining his pockets with whatever he stole, like all of the good things such as precious metals and weapons and stuff. I mean sure it was easy to trade with the Pict and all but it was just so hard to find them, and it all depended if the mysterious group even wanted to have dealing with them. But then again where would all of the fun be? I mean sure the stuff they had was valuable back home but stealing was fun! Finally not being able to hold in the suspense any longer the teen sprinted down the road only to be swallowed by the mist that once again clung to him and making him shiver, The Influence finally washing over him like a wave as he slipped into a killing spree. He could feel his heart rate soar as the people who'd been doing things people do, (i.e. throwing the baby out with the bathwater, drinking alcohol because said water was poisoned with sewage and aforementioned bathwater and what not, and eating bread with butter and honey probably seeing as this was a 'rich merchant village'.) screamed quickly running to their houses like they'd protect them from the Viking.

Denmark grinned manically at the thought. He liked this sense of power. He could choose who to kill and who to let live…he was almost like a god. He forced his way into a house where a family was huddled together around a cot, the sound of a baby crying having filled the room. A fire crackled in the hearth almost as if egging him on.

_Hetalia_

Norway watched as Denmark sprinted down the path yelling at the top of his lungs. A bit much don't you think? The young Norwegian felt a pit form in his stomach, as his brother seemed to melt into the mist much like an unlucky human disappearing into the maw of a horrid beast. It almost seemed as if the mist seemed to form into a satisfied smile. Norway blinked and it was gone so he dismissed it as a trick of the eye- he shouldn't have done that.

Swinging his hammer back onto his shoulder the Viking let The Influence wash over him, a listless feeling accompanying it this time as he let the war god, Odin, gain partial possession of his body. He braced himself for the recoil from the energy that was forced into his veins. He vaguely felt his immune system begin to fall- a side effect that he had to keep his eye one. He felt his body move forward, but he had no control of it- sort of like an out of body experience as the Deity controlled the young nation.

Following his oldest brother into the fog Norway could hear the terrified and agonized screams of the people, but he couldn't see them. Any normal person would be paranoid at the wall of grey that stood before them. But that was only if you were the hunted, not the hunt_er_. He felt a shiver run down his spine as cold mist settled on the back of his neck, an even colder aura surrounding him as he almost completely let his god possess him. However the connection wasn't perfect, Norway could still have some control over his body. He could still smell the sharp scent of wood smoke with the under tones of blood and gore that channeled through his bond. Norway still felt his hammer, riddled with runes of protection and luck, as a dead weight in his left hand. He panted tasting the biting tang of the smog; it seemed to take hold of his lungs. Vision tinted a fuzzy blue hue, as before his hammer people fell their warm lifeblood seemingly trying to paint its self on him contradicting to the cold sweat that coated his body. The muscles in his arm began to burn with effort of swinging the hammer around. Already the fight had lasted longer than what he was used to the elk skin sack at his hip felt heavy as it began to weigh him down even more, movements becoming slower with fatigue. The Viking wanted to rest but he couldn't stop fighting, he arm felt almost as though it would fall off at any given second.

"Not yet." A voice rumbled throughout his head making his ears ache. While Norway was done fighting mentally the god wasn't done fighting and his body continued to bring down more people.

_Hetalia_

Sweden's lips were curled up in a snarl as he hacked at anyone who dared try and pick up an ounce of courage to fight him- and those were some pretty brave people.

The older Viking misjudged the height of a person and lodged his sword into the hinge of a doorframe. Sighing at his bad luck he attempted to pull out the metal from its wooden tomb only to succeed in ripping off part of the frame with it. Today was just not his day… Oh wait it gets even better! The young man felt a pressure on his chest, not to the point where he was gasping for breath but it was noticeable. That meant one thing- one of the nations that inhabited the land was close by. Marine colored eyes scanned the disaster area. Fire burned on the thatched roofs and animals were in the street. A horse ran screaming by him and the nation almost felt tempted to grab it but didn't.

Bodies littered the street and Sweden vaguely noticed his younger brother slice someone in half a woman screaming not long after. His eyes noticed a small child that stood out more in the crowed, a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes like him. It the boy! That child was the enemy nation! Sweden felt himself go numb as he saw whom the little boy was pulling along with him. It was the little girl. Sweden sprinted toward the duo blade poised for a strike when a battle-axe kept him from landing the blow. Turning he met Denmark's bright eyes trained on the little girl with a heartbroken expression as she ran off with the little boy looking over her shoulder once to scream, "_Frère_!" Afterwards the young Dane then unlocked his weapon from his brother and turned back to the fight.

_Hetalia_

Denmark stood as the fire sizzled and crackled in the hearth of the family whose home he's invaded so ruthlessly to find them all huddled around a cot. He could see past them to find a woman protectively cradling a child with an exhausted expression on her face. He could tell she was sick… her frail body looked ready to give out. Ignoring the family he then turned to try and grab a piece of jewelry from a box. It was meager, a few small coins hardly worth his time. The family was probably that of a few peasants, it didn't matter. The Dane greedily stuffed the small box into the bag at his hip only to hear a cry of despair. Looking over at the family he could see one of the adolescents- a boy that was about the same age as him- look outraged as he did the unexpected.

Darting foreword across the dirt floor the peasant reached down into the fire and pulled a red-hot prong from the flames. The metal looked a livid white almost as if it called the boy to protect his family's meager savings. A few stubborn flames seemed to flicker on the surface of the slowly cooling metal. Denmark grinned- it wasn't like he always faced an opponent in battle- Norway got most all of them because of how small he looked compared to the rest. Slowly they circled for only the gods know what reasons. Time seamed to stand still.

They met, weapons of choice clashing creating sparks that lit up steel gray and electric blue. Denmark had the upper hand having been fighting for much longer than the other boy but the person he was fighting with was somehow larger than he was. The other people in the room- another boy about ten and a man who probably was the husband- attempted to get the older woman out of the house with the child before something happened. And did that something happen; Denmark had been forced to the ground with the thought of not getting burned when he got a bright idea. There were still coals in the fire and so just like that he shoved his battle-axe into the fire heating the metal up 'til it shone an angry red.

When the Dane pulled the axe out of the coals he pulled some of it with him and straight into his enemy's face making the young man give a strangled cry of pain as he went to rub his eyes. As he stepped backwards on reflex he unconsciously allowed Denmark to have some breathing room to plan out his next move. The burning embers flew everywhere catching fire to the house slowly suffocating the two inside. They didn't seem to care though and continued on fighting.

Denmark swung his axe only for his opponent to duck. He still managed to cut off a few russet colored strands of hair. That meant that he was tiring but, Denmark coughed as smoke burned his lungs, 'so am I, I should end this before I- hey is it me or is it unnaturally hot in here- oh look a door I should lock him in.' He thought hurriedly making it to the door. Closing it behind him the Viking turned to see the older man about to club him in the head with a piece of wood with nails in it. "Ah!" Yelped Denmark as he reflexively swung his battle-axe cutting the man in half. The putrid smell of death at such a close distance made the Danish Viking nauseous. That and it didn't help that his wife screamed. What did shock him was that she dropped dead afterword. He stared horrified at the dead body a somewhat guilty expression on his face as he stepped foreword from the door- the other person pounding on the inside had possibly died by now from the poisonous fumes. He dragged the woman to the side of the opposite house as her own home went up in flames. The baby was also dead. 'Probably crushed it when she fell.' Denmark thought to himself. Then looking both ways for unknown reasons he quickly stole the single piece of jewelry that she wore. He then turned to stop Sweden from killing the other country that was running through the 'war-zone' with the little girl that had followed him.

_Hetalia_

Ragged breathing reached Norway's ears startling the young nation out of trance he'd put himself into while the god was controlling him. The influence had warn off just recently and he could feel the Deity's power receding. The breathing seemed loud so the Norwegian looked to his left into the side gutter looking for the person- or thing making the noise. He didn't. The gutter was filled with mud, blood, bodies, sewage, and gore, but there were not living things in there except for the rats that is. Then he realized. It was himself that he heard. Forcing his head not to drop forward as his body went through hot and cold flashes the nation stumbled over to a closed door that had several hack marks in it and a large blood stain splattered over it like some sort of gruesome trophy.

Dark blue eyes traveled from his hammer, blood and gore having soaked into the runes, to the handle that was being held in a white-knuckle vice grip in his left hand. He grimaced as his eyes followed the winding scarlet trail up his arm looking for the source. Finding none the young Viking let himself slip in and out of conscious waiting for his brothers to stop fighting. It was almost like Norway was fighting against the ocean. One second he was conscious the next he wasn't. However the ocean had won.

_Hetalia_

Scotland had fallen asleep almost as soon as the sun had reached the horizon with the thought instilled in his head that his maid, Elizabeth, wasn't going to be in today, sure she worked at the mansion but she some how managed to keep all of Scotland's brothers in line... that was something that he didn't know how to do. She was _supposed _to be at her family's house because her mother was _supposed _to have a child today. But it seams that people weren't doing what they were _supposed _to do seeing as her mother had her child the night before. She was actually trying to find him seeing as when she arrived she couldn't find England in his room.

The young woman opened the door to Scotland's room to find England sleeping on his older brother. The light seemed to highlight the two making a very fluffy family scene. The woman couldn't help but squeak out a 'D'aww so cute~' and leave the room inwardly gushing at the fluffy family fluff that was so fluffy it could put a sheep to shame.

Scotland awoke a second time not an hour after he fell asleep to crying for the second time that day. However this time was different. Though the adolescent was groggy and had absolutely no idea as to what was happening having the events hit him like a horse and cart he remembered what was going on and snapped awake; lump forming in his throat. Shakily he attempted to push England off of him to see what was wrong or as he would later say ' because me patience was wearin' thin ye brat.' He stopped however when his baby brother screeched. This made the nation worry even more was he going to lose his brother like he feared? Swallowing hard he pulled his hand away from his brother's side to find blood coating his hand. He nearly vomited. He'd always thought it be Ireland or Wales first. Ireland because he was reckless and Wales because he played around dragons… but not England… the closest thing he had to _her_. Fumbling with England's long tunic he saw that what he'd thought was a large wound was just a painful looking scrape that probably stung more than anything. The fiery red head could only thing of one explanation to his brother's recent agony- that same thing that was slowly tearing at his conscious because of his helplessness. Those _damned_ _Vikings._

* * *

Look hither! A cliffy for thou! (Oh old English…. I just like all the 'E's that you can add to every thing XD) I just love how well Denmark is getting on with the Flora, you can see I'm having a little to much fun here with that X'D

Translation!- Frère= brother (Pronounced:Frair) (I don't know if these pronunciations are helping you guys out D: )

Historical Notes! Or it wouldn't be historical! D:

"…popular with the kids…" Yep most Vikings were teens it was sort of like a coming of age thing~ :D

"…City of London…" Believe it or not but this is actually a one mile city that is inside London it was originally a walled city that kept all of the Roman riches pretty much ;)

"…he could tell she was sick…" Childbirth wasn't easy back then so many mothers died from infection or disease because of unsanitary medical conditions. This is shown when one of King Henry the 8th 's wives (yes plural) had a boy and so the baby's conditions were kept spotless but the mother then died of infection (I think this is what happened so don't quote me on this)

"…Throwing the baby out with the bathwater…" This actually did happen ._. The babies were the last to wash so the bathwater was so filthy that sometimes they were thrown out with it O_o" However the saying means to throw out something valuable.

"…drinking alcohol…" the water during this time could kill you so everyone pretty much drank that (or fruit juice like cider I guess)

_NORSE MYTHOLOGY_

Dark ones- Demons

Nightly, Night terror- Nightmares

Frost Giants- Trolls

-Just to let you know if you ever go into a haunted house and you feel uneasy DON'T call the above mentioned by name use stuff like "Nightly" or "Frost Giants" ;) -

"…close to other worlds…"- There is a tree in Norse Mythology called Yaggdrasil (it's an Ash Tree) there is nine worlds on this tree *The branches* we live in what would be Middle Earth

The Influence- O.K. to clear this up for you people the influence is when the Vikings go berserk ( that is actually where that word came from) this can either be genetic (like with the Nordics) or can be from drugs (Which Norway was thinking of resorting to before he found partial possession and used that instead)

Wise woman- A woman who can do magic (it's different then a bard which is the male version (i.e. what Norway is) it is witchcraft to mix the two though because of the different energies…I think)


	5. Scotland and Denmark break the 4th wall

Disclaimer: If I did own this I wouldn't be writing FANfiction now would I?

Characters: You know…the usual

Place: we'll get to that D:

Time: 8th- 11th cent- have you people read the other chapters?!

TO MY ANONs ~

If you don't have a Fanfic account and have reviewed- Thank you~

_Those damned Vikings! _

They were the whole reason he was alone. The whole reason he was scared of losing his brothers to the point that he kept them at a distance! Scotland quickly shuffled out of his bed holding England out away from him to look for any more injuries with scrutinizing forest colored eyes. It's _not _because he was a _good_ brother either so will you people get _that_ thought _out_ of your heads! Scotland knew he was far from being the sibling he should be.

The red head knelt down at the side of his bed and nestled England down on the rough woolen covers. He then reached under his bed pulling aside the ruffled sheets that dragged on the wooden floor of the squat castle. He pulled out a medium sized wooden box made of ash wood into his lap. There were intricate carvings of animals and people imbedded into the light colored wood the grain running through them creating an uneven texture as the burned wood of some of the animals fur stood stark against the splintery background. It had been a gift from his late father figure, Germania. The blond haired man had been Wales and England's father but had died when an attack on Rome had killed him. Scotland jumped as a shiver went down his spine when his mother had told him that his stepfather had died when he turned on Rome unprepared for the weakened country to fight back and stab him fatally. Sighing to himself the red head opened the lid and in the box he found all of the medical equipment he would need to heal his little brother.

The young Scotsman swiftly created a salve to spread over his scrape to ease the stinging. He then proceeded to spread the cool ointment over his brother's wound and dressed it with the cloth that was also in that worn, beat up box of his.

As the red head stood up sighing at his lack of ability to do much else for his brother the nation growled out a string of Gaelic curses under his breath as he slipped his metaphorical mask back on. Oh what he'd do to those barbarians once he got his hands on them- not like he would anyway, he was scared out of his wits but you wouldn't be able to get him to admit to it- 'I'll start with the oldest, after I drown him I'll sell the younger ones to the Pict as sacrifices, then-' The fiery read head's malicious thoughts were interrupted when his door burst open nearly tearing the wooden door from it's hinges, he could hear a crack as the handle made contact with the wall as it rebounded and slammed behind Elizabeth. Before the first syllables of the words he was going to say could even form on his lips his maid, eyes streaming, breath raggedy, beat him to the punch. "V-Vikings… in t-the village!" She stuttered her chest heaving in her attempt to keep from sobbing. She lasted a little longer before the realization that her family was there too set in and she fainted falling flat on the floor. Scotland just stared shocked into silence at the reaction before grouchily sighing as he struggled to pick her up. The young woman's weight made him stagger slightly as he walked towards his bed to set her down.

The young Scotsman managed to sit her down- albeit a little bit roughly- on his bed the downy mattress giving under their weight, England looking over his shoulder tear bright green eyes round with shock as he watched his older brother practically drop the young woman on the bed. Scotland let out a frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his blood red hair green eyes downcast. Was it too much to ask for a quite day? He didn't think so. Once again his thoughts were interrupted as he heard the shuffling of feet outside the door. The cracked handle turned the hinges creaking. Almost fearful as to what he might see Scotland slowly looked up to find Wales, blue eyes the size of the harvest moon, standing in his doorway clinging to the threshold wall as if it were his only life line. "What?" Scotland snapped his voice sounding hoarse to his ears making Wales visibly flinch at his older brother's temper.

That seemed to have done it. The seven year-old boy then began to sniffle once again, little tears travelling from his eyes to his jaw as they carved a clear path on his grime and soot covered face. Scotland could tell his brother was trying to hold it in and failing miserably at it in the process.

Shifting uncomfortably on the edge of his bed unsure of what to do the red headed nation decided he might as well just get it over with. Getting up on shaky legs the young country walked over to his younger sibling to awkwardly kneel down to his level placing a hand on the younger blond's head. Forest-y colored eyes scanned the shivering form, nothing was wrong with Wales- at least physically, but it did look as though he had seen a ghost. "M-mam's k-killer alm-most go-t m-me." Wales whispered finally letting out a strangled sob hands forming tiny fists by his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Scotland was then able to put two and two together- his little brother had been in the village when it had been raided. That much was obvious by the bloodstained cuffs of his pants. The red head's attention was then pulled back to the door way when a small movement caught his eye by the door frame. A small girl stood in the door way all teary eyed. "Why me?" the young Scotsman murmured to himself in exasperation. The ginger haired adolescent could practically feel the headache about to hit him. Desperately he looked around the sparse room in a vain attempt to find Ireland, hell he'd gladly look for North if the younger Irish teen was around at the moment. Of the two he was the better one with his younger brothers.

_Hetalia_

Norway could feel himself regain consciousness as he awoke to the utter silence that engulfed him nearly as soon as he opened his eyes. Denmark and Sweden were nowhere to be seen- not like anyone could see through the dense smog that hung lowly over the charred remnants of the village. The Viking struggled to stand up using the blackened door as leverage. The blond shakily used his hammer to put before him to lean on he hunched over it breathing hard at the effort of standing. He attempted to use the weapon as a sort of walking stick as he stumbled forward the bleak surroundings casting harsh shadows on his face darkening his already deep blue eyes. Exhaustion pulled down on his limbs as he coughed to clear his lungs from the inhalation of toxic smoke that strangled with every breath the tang of sulfur on his tongue as he breathed in sharply. Soot clung to Norway's body as he panted, jaw clenched, as he forced his painfully stiff muscled to move. Norway's whole body was tense as he left arm throbbed in a painful dull rhythm. Reflexively the adolescent grimaced in discomfort and attempted to bring his right hand to his arm. The limb in question almost felt as though it was being torn from his body at the shoulder.

Norway took a tentative steep forward for his legs to give out falling forward in the process as his body finally gave out from under him. The Norwegian lay amongst the rubble in a clearly undignified manor clearly beyond caring at that point. The smoke had tore at the delicate tissue of his lungs to the point his had to lay on his side to catch his breath. Hammer by his head, arms numb, Norway slowly summoned the will to stand. All the while his mind screamed at him to rest. He couldn't rest. The Viking stood once again upsetting a miniscule pile of ash on the outside of his right foot as his feeble attempt to stand paid off, though he did look much like a new born animal by the way he was standing.

Slowly the Norwegian managed to stumble over to the corner of a newly decrepit house. The blackened wood stood stark against the pale ash that had begun to fall from the sky from the fires that had spread rampant across the town. The cobblestone streets made it hard to get a foothold on the slick rock that lay in patterns on the ground. It was much easier to navigate the dirt streets in the smaller townships that they 'visited'. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts Norway mentally scolded himself for thinking of infrastructures when he should be worried about what _things_ lurk in a place like this if he should stay to long. Already the bodies were beginning to bloat the corpses grotesquely strewn about the street the grout in between the cobblestones painted with their lifeblood. Norway figured that if he kept walking toward the ship then he would eventually find his brothers. What he didn't know was that he wouldn't find them at the ship but out a mere three blocks away from him looking for said Norway.

_Hetalia_

Norway slowly limped down the cobble stone streets the exhaustion finally fading into a numb throbbing. It might sound weird but the Norwegian was so tiered that he felt no longer tiered. He managed to stagger to the edge of the village to find the deeply vegetated forest before him. The blond, knowing full well that he had a long walk ahead of him started down the dusty trail looking for a safe place to rest for a while. He managed to find a stone that was conveniently placed by the side of the path and thinking nothing of it Norway sat to catch his breath. The Viking knew that he would feel a little better as soon as he'd eaten something, and possibly had something to drink. Wary of spending to much time in a weakened state in this type of forest, with it being so close to the resident countries and all, the nation once again turned his hammer into a walking stick and was once again limping down the trail at a slightly faster pace at the prospect of food.

Norway was blindly walking down the trail by the time he reached their camp. He- as one could imagine- was not happy to find that Sweden- being the very organized person he was- had cleaned up the camp and put the food back on the ship. Norway leaned against the large boulder that had made a 'wall' in their camp as he glared in the direction of the boat almost as if trying to summon it much like a dog. He really didn't have the energy to go down to the boat just for a piece of salted fish- wait. He was doing this for food of course he had the energy for that! Norway pushed away from the boulder after catching himself dozing a little. The blond then proceeded to use the rest of his energy to get to the boat, maybe if no one was watching he could add a little bit of magic to the fish to give him a little more energy, it's not like anyone would notice or anything crazy like that... would they? Nah.

Norway managed to scrabble onto the boat bringing a quarter of the beach with him in his shoes. Grumbbling the Norwegian ignored the annoying little bits of sand as he propped his back up on the side of the boat. He reached into the 'box' full of salted fish and stole about two strips of cod. Using about half of what little energy was left in him Norway looked both ways and practically poured the healing energy into one of the strips of cod. The Viking grimaced knowing full well at how bad the fish would now taste seeing as it currently held the quality of medicine, and medicine always tastes bad, everyone knows that! With that in mind he was able to wolf it down not really tasting the enchanted fish 'jerky' cringing on principle. He then began to thoughtfully munch on the other piece of the fish as energy slowly seeped throughout his body much like when you drank warm soup on a cold day only different.

The pale glint of a horn on a pile of furs caught his attention and he figured that seeing as he'd have to wait for his brothers he might as well drink to be able to deal with Denmark and the fight that he and Sweden were most likely going to get into because of the two of them being together for so long. He made himself comfortable on a crate and waited for his brothers' arrival as he looked out onto the tree line before him.

_Hetalia_

Denmark felt hallow on the inside, he'd grown to like that girl… just a little…maybe. She reminded him of Norway when he was younger she was small and meek (Okay well Norway was a bit short…) and she relied on other people. However, a small part of his mind was saying that she reminded him of _himself _even more that she reminded him of Norway. Speaking of Norway the younger Viking had yet to be found. They had separated from each other during the raid but it was easy for him to find Sweden, as he was just one street down from him but no Norway.

Sighing Denmark stood from the stone well wall that he'd been sitting on pondering his thoughts for the last, oh, twenty minutes rather than looking for his little brother. Brushing himself off the Dane swung his battle-axe up back over his shoulder the long handle resting on it, the edge of the double-sided axe sticking up off of the back of his shoulder a dangerous threat should he choose to turn sharply in any direction, well, unless someone _wanted _their head lopped off then by all means…

Fire reflected off of blue eyes as the Deane scanned the area looking for either brother -seeing as Sweden had left him some time ago mumbling to himself. Little flakes of ash drifted down- almost like snow- spiraling around him in a silent dance. They seemed to gravitate to his spiky blond hair making the Dane shake his head in frustration, 'if this was a story,' Denmark thought bemused, 'then one would think that Mother Nature was out to get me.' Almost as soon as the blond thought it did the young Dane realize how ridiculous it sounded to even him. Breathing out heavily Denmark got up and kicked a beam of wood (for no apparent reason) that had burned and fallen from the shop that once stood above Denmark. During its life the beam had done a very nice job of supporting an overhead sign so you can imagine it did NOT like being kicked and invader or not whoever did would end up with a face full of sparks and embers. And as you can imagine that's exactly what happened to Denmark. He ended up with a face full of burning embers and red hot sparks shot up into his face from the glowing coals of the wooden beam the sharp snap of wood smoke reentered the air around the Viking invading his sense of smell and making him sneeze.

_Hetalia_

A few final ashes fell down from the blackened sky in a way that resembled snow. The fighting had stopped when the people had been robbed of all their valuables that currently resided safely in the three young Vikings' elk skin bags. The two older nations had noticed Norway had gone off by himself again and thinking nothing of it sat around a hearth in some random house so they wouldn't have to deal with the raw sewage that snaked through the village and seeing as it was the middle ages well, lets just say you'd be surprised as to what you found lurking in _there_. So anyway Denmark and Sweden had finished going though what they got- they robbed people blindly they had absolutely no idea if what they got was trash or not they normally went after it if the item was shinny though. Sweden had sighed at Denmark's complaints about Norway always taking forever and how the last two raids he'd always been the last one to meet up with them. Finally having enough of Sweden ignoring him Denmark ordered his older brother to look for Norway. Denmark then had a bruise the size of Sweden's fist on his right arm. However Sweden had seen it as a grand opportunity to be rid of Denmark for a while and the two had set out looking for the Norwegian and that's how our favorite Dane ended up kicking a poor deceased piece of wood. He will now be haunted for all eternity by aforementioned wood.

The Danish male then walked by a charred animal, scrunching his nose in the process do to the horrid smell the burnt flesh and fur giving off a foul odor that the Viking was all to familiar with. He cringed and hurriedly walked past the animal- a boar - and he then continued down the cobblestone path he had chosen.

_Hetalia_

It had been an hour since Sweden had left Denmark to his thoughts and the two had met back up at the well with… no Norway. "Maybe he went back to the camp…?" Denmark tried. Sweden nodded his agreement.

"'T's a p'ss'b'l'ty." The older adolescent replied deep in thought, for once Denmark actually made sense! Knowing Norway he would defiantly be waiting at the boat ready to chew the both of them out for being late. The Swede began to lumber in the direction of the boat catching his brother by surprised who had been standing with his head tilted slightly to the side a pondering expression on his face, he'd been trying to decipher Sweden's accent again it was a little thick sometimes so the older Viking didn't really blame him.

_Hetalia_

The two males had managed to make it through the forest with the both of them making it out alive, well Denmark might have sustained a few more bruises thanks to some 'evil' roots that had the audacity to trip him and…Sweden, for obvious reasons. Denmark stumbled ahead of his older brother who was walking menacingly towards him because he _might_ have said something stupid. The Dane ran through the tall grass, he wasn't going very fast though, his battle axe weighed him down making a perfect target for his brother's fist. But today the fates seemed to like Denmark and he was able to make it to the boat while bringing along about half the beach's worth of sand in his shoes. "NORWAY! SAVE MEEEEEE!" The Viking yelped and comically hid behind the young Norwegian who was sitting on a crate and drinking something from a horn. Sweden managed to get on the boat and started to stalk towards the Dane cowering behind Norway as if he thought the youngest Viking would protect him. However Norway was not feeling merciful that morning.

One black eye later and the trio had set sail for their homeland a calm aura surrounding their boat as they sailed across the fast expanse of ocean with nothing but the choppy seas and Denmark's one-sided conversation with his brothers who were both taking turns drinking out of a horn. Now Denmark was curious creature by nature so naturally he wanted to know what was in the horn. However he was not one for doing things the easy way… When Sweden had set the horn down on a few furs Denmark made his move and before Norway could grab it the Dane had stolen the horn and took a rather large gulp out of it. And that day Denmark learned what mead tasted like. He chocked as the burning liquid went down his throat- he hadn't expected it to be mead of all things! "What was that!?" He managed to wheeze.

"Mead." Norway dead paned stating the obvious as he set down the ropes he was holding where the newly dubbed Horn o' Mead normally resided.

"H'w d' y' th'nk w' d'l w'th y'?" Asked Sweden a somewhat amused glint in his eyes. Denmark gave the two a look of mock hurt.

"Sweden, Norway, seeing as you can't drink and sail, I'll take care of this for you." Denmark grinned and then preceded to down the entire horn of mead while his two brothers looked on in utter horror. For the rest of the trip the two were contemplating leaving Denmark stranded on a rock for the snake.

Okay you guys sorry for the shortness of the chapter but this was just tying up some lose ends from the last chapter. I just want to say that I am not going to be able to write as much for a while as I am going to school and I have no idea what my homework is going to be like so the chapters may be short for a little while (Like this one, it's barely three thousand words) so yes this was basically a filler, you may commence the tomato throwing now T_T

Anyone reading our lost world I have about 4,046 words on it and I'm about, eh, halfway done (10,000 words anyone?)

Historical note

The horns- The horns were never on the Viking's helmet because lets face it, that'd be incredibly stupid so they used them to carry mead. (Alcohol) However us crazy artists found them and thought 'silly Vikings you don't wear horns on your head :D' and that's where that misconception is born. T_T *is an artist*

The beds- The people of the middle ages weren't short! They actually slept sitting up especially if you were sick (That can take care of a lot of ailments right there folks!) because they believed the devil would crawl into your body if you were sick and lying down because you then looked like you were dead.

LOL Denmark broke the fourth wall… Scotty broke it a long time ago… :D


	6. From The Frying Pan And Into The Fire

Yay another chapter for the History Rewritten! The next few chapters well be what happens AFTER the raids, what fun awaits our friends!

Time: really? Are we_ really_ going to go over this? You lot have read the other chapters! Well… that and I'm to lazy to write this…

Poland, Disclaimer, Hurry, they're on to us!

Poland: Why wouldn't they be? Sterling totally doesn't own APH, because if she did it would be, like a whole lot darker and historical than it already is…? Am I reading the script right it says that Pru-

Prussia: Hey there Poland, the awesome me has graced you with my presence to say… On with the story!

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It was about midday when the effects of Norway's illegal magic wore off. The young nation heavily sat down, fighting nausea, on a few furs to close his eyes and think. Okay maybe closing his eyes wasn't his best idea ever but hey, at least he wouldn't be forced to talk to Denmark. It wasn't as though the Dane was going to live much longer with the rate he was going. Norway didn't think the board Sweden was stabbing with his newly won knife could hold out for much longer.

_Hetalia_

Next time Norway woke up- though he didn't even remember falling asleep- the nation found that he'd uncharacteristically slept for two days straight. Norway stood running his fingers through his bleach blond hair in frustration. He finally brushed his fringe back in a vain attempt to keep it from falling in his eyes and hindering him in a fight.

The Norwegian looked out to the back of the boat to see Sweden standing with his back toward Norway. However, Denmark was across from the Norwegian sprawled out on the wooden deck in a very painful position. Though it didn't seem to matter seeing as the Danish Viking always slept like that.

Norway blinked slowly as he gazed back at his eldest brother who had walked over to where Norway was. "I'll take next watch." Were Norway's only words as Sweden then nodded as he made his way over to the front of the boat.

Norway gazed out at the eastern horizon knowing that their trip had been delayed by two days because neither Sweden nor Denmark knew how to read the stars. That and Norway was the only person who could teach them and he didn't want to. The only thing that was keeping him from doing so was the fact that he liked knowing how to do something that his brothers couldn't even fathom how to begin learning. It was satisfying to the Norwegian.

The nation smirked slightly at the absurd thoughts that ran through his head as his shift soon ended. Denmark was the first one to wake out of the nation's two sleeping elder brothers. Norway could practically feel his brother's eyes lock onto him at the taller Dane proceeded to plot against his younger brother. T'was obvious that he was about to tackle said Norway. And being the smart nation that he was Norway dodged his brother's attack.

The older Danish Viking landed heavily on the boat with a dull 'thud' echoing throughout the silence of the twilight. The other blond male looked- well more or less tried to glare- at the smaller Viking but to no avail. However, he did succeed in getting Sweden to wake up from where he had dozed off in a sitting position with his back against the side of the boat, head tilted down against his chest. Marine colored eyes, glassy with sleep, looked up at the younger Vikings in annoyance, he wasn't one who liked being woken up. He would find an excuse later to beat up the Dane in response to the action of waking him. The Swede was like a bear. You don't wake bears. Well, unless your Denmark, then I guess it's your job…so… back to the situation at hand.

Sweden just looked at the scene in front of him. Denmark was on the floor sprawled out in a spread eagle position on his stomach. The aforementioned Dane probably had given himself a headache from the force of his fall- er- failed tackle maybe? Depends on who you ask. ANYWAY. Sweden just sighed and glanced up at the sky as if to ask his father 'see what you left me with?!' "Wh't h'pp'n'd?" The dreaded question. It filled the early morning air with such heavy thickness it was almost like a winter blanket at Egypt's house, but they don't know who Egypt is.

Norway was the only one brave enough of the two nations in question to answer said question. "Danmark was being an idiot." He replied warily turning his dark blue eyes accusingly to the elder country. In response the Danish Viking moaned from his probable splitting headache that he received as a result of his actions. The nation still lay motionless on the deck feeling sorry for him self.

Sweden looked as though that answer solves all of the problems of the world. It was like he had found some profound piece of wisdom in the words that Norway had said. "'h.' If you thought about it, that answer really did explain everything, except for the fact that the fates just hadn't seemed to like him at all in the past few months. The Swedish nation gazed from where he slouched down at his brothers. He could already feel the headache that was forming; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was going to be a long day. Only one question remained. Why did Denmark drink all of the mead?!

The eldest nation shook his head and waited for Norway's orders, but at the same time not really expecting any at all. He sighed seeing as his younger brother was off daydreaming again. It was to be expected, this was Norway after all. So Sweden got up and walked over to Norway, stepping _on_ Denmark along the way. The Dane grunted when his brother stepped on him, a small, sort of scary smile appeared on Sweden's face in satisfaction of his younger brother's pain.

The Swedish nation towered over Norway who had finally snapped back into reality when Sweden approached him. Glaring once more that the Danish Viking that was just getting back up off of the floor the nation turned back to his brother. "Is there ANY mead left?" He asked stressing the 'any' part of the sentence. His gaze was slightly hopeful as he looked out onto the calm waters of the North Sea.

"N'n'" Sweden replied wistfully. Denmark offered a glare to both nations, a sign of mutual feelings as he got up from the deck, clutching at the makeshift bandage on his head that he _still_ hadn't changed. That boat couldn't get any smaller at that moment. And currently Denmark's chances weren't good. Matter-of-fact the gods were taking bets as to who would snap first. Norway sighed, why did _he _have to be the leader in this?

"For the love of Odin! Just get the sails up." The blond nation finally growled irately as he attempted to chart their position on the map through the usage of the morning star, setting moon, and rising sun. That in itself was quite the feat to begin with seeing as the map they currently had position of was an older piece of junk that was no where near to being as accurate as modern maps. But it wasn't like any of his people had been doing much map making seeing as they were still in the 'learning as we go' phase.

Sweden just walked over to where Denmark was standing, jobless, and grabbed the nation's upper arm. He pulled the shocked country along over to the mast which was about as far as the two could get from Norway, who currently was not happy with himself for lazing around for two days. What he didn't know was that his brothers weren't as inept as he thought they were…

The eldest of the two pushed his brother to the mast. "G't g'ng." Those two words were said in a scathing tone as the two Vikings went to work with the rigging of the sail. Red and white-stripped fabric unfurled as they tied the ropes down to their designated spots. By now Sol had come just above the horizon, but storm clouds blocked her from view. While they were further along then they had realized there was no way that they wouldn't get home before they got their feet wet, so to speak. Denmark could almost smell the scent of rain being carried on the wind that lead north. Once calm waters sloshed over the low sides of the boat that just skimmed the water. Norway had, somehow, through the rising chaos, managed to get their position and plot a heading. The three would just barely get ahead of the storm. It wasn't normal for something like this to happen. They could only hope that what lurked below wasn't being called to the surface while they were helpless.

_Hetalia_

Through expertise planning on their parts the three Vikings managed to stay ahead of the storm. They could practically feel the air becoming colder and crisper, much like a ripe apple. The scent of the sea was stronger and the waves seemed to take on a life all to their own as they came closer to the land of their homes. The chaotic seas were frigid to the bone. Cold tears of the sky washed down on the Vikings as they scrambled to get to their port. It was only so long before the storm caught up to them as the winds drifted in and out of favor. Sweden nervously kept a watchful eye on the shifting waters, much resembling the writhing of a large snake, for any creatures that would not favor three Vikings wondering into their territory. The nation was just glad that they weren't near the portals to the other worlds. Strong magic and… _creatures _spelled disaster for unaware vassals.

_Hetalia_

Rain pelted the three nations as they struggled against the storm. Cold rain soaked through their cloaks and frost wind bit at their hands. On many occasions the three brothers found themselves coughing and sputtering as the storm's merciless talons threatened to drag them from the faux safety of the dragon into the suffocating darkness of the liquid night the dragon struggled against. Norway could almost see the town through the slanted rain as his hair was plastered to his face. It was like a beacon, the storm having not yet reached the port. The sun seemed to shine from the area highlighting the mountains and thatched roofs and farms of his homeland. The nation snapped out orders to his brothers as they attempted to catch both the current and the now favorable wind that would carry them out of the spindle like fingers of death and into the embrace of the sun. The three slumped against the mast as slowly they escaped the storm, sulfur clouds forming into a malicious grinning figure as the sea below it wailed her frustration.

The countries thanked their father as they watched the sight before them from where they leaned against the mast shivering and painting. Their mouths had the sickening overpowering taste of salt and seawater. With the sun almost below the horizon the three brothers hurried their way into port thanking the gods for the safe ending to their trip. Now they had a new task. Dealing with the rest of the 'town' and the bad omen of the storm. They just didn't need any more bad luck with the apparent bad season for crops. As well as a bad raiding season with they're being more ships lost at sea than normal…and the wise woman, Saga, that the three brothers' were under the supervision of would rip them to shreds when she found out. But seeing as her name meant 'seeing one' she probably already knew which made her all the more terrifying.

Tying down their lines and rounding up their possessions the three brothers made their way off of the dragon ship. Sopping wet with rain and seawater and battle weary they surveyed the other ships coming into port. Out of the entire 'village' the three of them were the 'youngest' and the only ones with a boat that was sailed by only three people to make it out of the storm alive. The other men were hurriedly getting off of the boats and stumbling around on the land as they got used to the feel of firm ground under foot once again.

A vast storm of cold rain and slashing wind created by the hands of the All-Father bore down on the tiny village. The countries looked as the surrounding Vikings stared them down with cold eyes. "You brought this on us all! With your filthy witch-craft!" One young man yelled above the tempest, his cold grey eyes burning with accusation. He was known for jealousy of the three nations because of the fact that they held the authority of the surrounding area. However, the man was actually just the same age as the other nations. He was known quite well throughout the town for his honor and bravery so, obviously, his opinion carried much weight. But, the nations were believed to be the sons of the wise-woman, Saga, so they won out against him by principal.

"I'm pos't'v' th't th'r' 's n'n' 'f y'r 'w'tchcr'ft' 'n m' sh'p." Sweden drawled defensively while shouldering past Denmark and Norway with his share of their findings.

"That is unless you want to challenge Saga, Orvar, I think she's more of a witch then Lukas here." Denmark grinned as he followed suit nodding his head in the direction of Norway. On a normal biases the Dane got along well with the other Viking, however the only one on the ship who could do magic was Norway, and Denmark just _knew_ that he hadn't done any magic at all since the last raid. It just wasn't the Norwegian to do something that was against the ancient laws that their father had created with their uncle during their childhood with Rome and the other Ancient Countries of the past. Nonetheless that was in the past.

Norway looked somewhat gratefully at the retreating back of his older brother and his obliviousness at the _laws_ that he broke. He could never bury those shameful decisions for regardless to his careful judgment they would always be brought to the surface somehow.

_Hetalia_

Cold wind tore savagely at the trees as the three nations walked through frigid rain to their destination. The road they took was muddied with the rain and horses that walked the path to carry people to their various destinations. However the storm made the road deceitful for any traveler to trek regardless of the level of precaution that they took. Denmark sloshed through the mud weary for any malicious bushes or trees. The rain had flattened his hair to his head and made his clothes cling to his body. The battle-axe that he carried with him was as much of a dead weight as Norway's hammer or Sweden's broadsword. The loot that they had along with them was almost as heavy as their weapons of choice, though that was more of a good thing than any thing else in reality, they had to support themselves and Saga, though she didn't really need anyone to support her seeing as she was the only wise-woman in town to even offer her abilities in healing. Without her the three adolescents would be nowhere near as successful as they were now. Denmark was startled out of his thoughts as he tripped over a root and nearly ended up with a mouthful of dirt had Sweden not stopped him from falling in the mud, oh no, he would get back at the Dane through other means and NOT by malicious foliage.

The sky was dark sulfur, clouds growling as torrents of water fell from the endless sky. The High- One was not pleased through the usage of illegal magic and the chaos that it would surly bring.

The Vikings visibly relaxed as soon as they stepped onto their property. The wind howled as they hurriedly made their way to their house. However one thing stopped them from entering. That was the cottage that was on the hill through the trees on the other side of the meager farm. The aforementioned cottage belonged to Saga, the woman would be furious when she 'found out' that the three had arrived and had not come to visit her, especially Denmark seeing as his wound hadn't been treated at all since he had got it. The Dane had actually been feeling a little hot under the collar and his head had been pounding recently. He shivered not only at the freezing wind and rain that clawed with invisible talons at his face and neck. Sweden also looked a little more than slightly uncomfortable at the thought of visiting the short-tempered wise-woman, and other people wondered where Norway got _his_ temper.

They all stood awkwardly at the doorway to their home as they struggled not only with the cold and exhaustion but who would see the wise-woman who most thought was their mother. Both Sweden and Denmark looked at each other then almost as if agreeing they switched their attention to their younger brother. Knowing that he lost Norway glared at the door half-heartedly, the cold rain plastering his tunic against his back. Throwing his stuff on the ground and shoving his hammer into Denmark's chest, the nation then stocked off into the storm in silent rage matching the tempest stride for stride.

_Hetalia_

The forest seemed to swallow the nation whole as he followed the side path that shadowed the fields of his home where he was raised. The nation decided to take a few moments to rest against a large ash tree in a futile attempt to prolong his …unpleasant… fate. Guilt ate at his heart as he thought of the shame that he brought to his family and his father who probably was the one who told Saga of his illegal deeds.

The nation shocked himself when through the cold rain warm water slipped down his face. Eyes wide with his discovery, shoulders trembling with the cold or suppressed sobs, Norway shook his head in disappointment at himself. He pushed off of the tree, a hand on his hunting knife, as he made sure that no unwanted presences were following him. The nation proceeded down the path with heavy feet not giving caring at all that he was soaked through to the bone with rain as freezing wind ripped at his flesh. The nation couldn't see two feet in front of him as he stumbled along the overgrown path. Vegetation that was once grown over the area was flattened with wind and rain as the normally life giving water took the fragile gift away.

_Hetalia_

Norway had finally made it to the warm looking cottage. He swallowed heavily past an uncomfortable knot in this throat. The nation was about to call out a greeting when the door was opened. A rush of warm air spiced with the crisp, earthy scent of herbs greeted the adolescent as he walked into the modest cabin. The door shut behind him and Norway turned around to find Saga standing there, the middle-aged woman gazed at him, level with the nation in question. The woman had dark brown hair that had a few strands of blond here and there; her piercing green eyes bore into the Norwegian's soul as she stared him down. Then with out warning the woman slapped the nation, the force of the blow making the nation's head and shoulders turn. Norway had to put a hand on the table to keep himself from falling over.

Blue eyes wide as he shakily touched where he'd been struck on his face Norway could feel severe green eyes watching his every movement. There was probably a livid red mark extending from his cheekbone to his jaw containing all of the raw anger of Saga. The dim firelight of the room matched his mood as the adolescent looked over to where the middle aged woman stood across from him as she lowed her arm. Dipping his head in shame the nation turned away from her as Norway proceeded to have the biggest verbal thrashing of his life. She stood at his side as the nation warily lowered his left hand to the table as the realization crossed his mind that he'd been struck. "Do you know what you've _done_?" She snarled, Norway just looked away signaling that he did know of his actions and their consequences. "I thought so." She said straitening up from when she tried to make eye contact with the Norwegian. The wise-woman walked over to a shelf where she kept her journals of her messages from the gods. "Contacted by the Great North whose descendants I watch," Norway closed his eyes tighter trying to block out the sound of Saga's narration of the documentation of his illegal deeds, "The one who's magic is the only true magic of the three, committed _three_ direct atrocities against the gods." _Three? _Norway's eyes snapped open as soon as he heard the number, his heart thrashed against his ribcage as his mind reeled in an attempt to figure out what the third accusation was. "For usage of illegal magic," There was one, " Forming a pact with a deity," Norway swallowed uncomfortably, that was another one, but what was the third one? "And the dishonorable release of a dark one upon the citizens of the final raid." Finally the young Viking looked up to Saga holding a wooden tablet with runes written on it in the maddening right to left, left to right format that Norway had yet to master.

"I didn't-" Norway attempted to protest against the third accusation until he cut himself off, the face in the mist. He felt his defense slowly crumble.

"You didn't _what_?" The older woman looked down at him from her spot on the other side of the room. Norway just looked back down closing his eyes as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

"_Never mind." _Norway pushed back standing tall, tired of being pushed around though a part of him knew he was wrong for disrespecting his elders. Though immediately he looked down, not being able to match the pure spiteful wisdom shown in Saga's eyes. The nation tried to relax the tension in his shoulders, but it didn't work. Saga just sighed and put the wooden tablet back on the shelf. She picked her way back over to the young nation.

"Sit down and shut up." Saga snapped at Norway's disrespectful tone of voice. The wise-woman pulled the sulking nation over to a cot that was in a niche. "Don't use that tone with me. We're going to set something straight here, I'm not going to fight with you, Lukas, but you broke_ laws_. I couldn't let you go unpunished-" Saga sighed exasperatedly noticing Norway wasn't really listening to her. She then sat down next to the Norwegian letting the tension in her shoulders go slack as a sign she was changing the subject. "Norway." The woman used his country name in an attempt to get a response. "Where is Denmark, I need to see him." She softened her tone of voice placing a hand on the nation's back making Norway flinch away.

"You already know." Was his response, while it was true the woman did know that Sweden threatened Denmark with his own axe if he didn't come to have his head looked at (no pun intended). Saga knew that it was important to drag Norway out of the recesses of his mind where he was no doubt beating himself up even more than she had.

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Yay chapter six! Sorry for the short chapter you guys D: Here the Nordics get back from the raiding season to their home.

Saga's Cottage- Is actually based on a type of Viking architecture that was found in the largest Viking City in Denmark (Now in Germany) called Hedeby. Denmark, Norway, and Sweden's house is a Trelleborg (it's like a Long house only it was built by Vikings, is made of oak, and looks like a Viking ship -_-' Something tells me they liked boats, I don't know WHAT could have made me think that.)

The runes- Runes are REALLY hard to read. They are written from right to left and left to right. Not to mention that but they are written in code. -_-

Saga- It means 'seeing one' I thought this was appropriate for her seeing as she's a wise-woman. Tell me what you guys think of her. I didn't want her to be a Mary-Sue seeing as she will be in this story A LOT. I created her to be able to keep pace with Norway and Denmark and lets face it I wouldn't let three teenagers live alone who knows what we could be plotting! D By the way she's in her mid thirties, which is quite old for that time.

Orvar-It means 'Arrow' I thought that this would be a good reference to his eyes, which I see as a sharp gray.

"…with out warning the woman slapped the nation…" This is a reference that in the Viking culture (This may or may not be true) women bossed around the men this is an extreme of that. Another reference is: "Sit down and shut up." Not only is that a reference to that but a reference to the saying 'Parents teach you the first few years to walk and talk and then spend the next eighteen telling you to sit down and shut up.'


	7. Charges, What Charges?

Time: Winter :D

Location: Northern Europe

Now let us get on with the story!

Disclaimer! : I, sadly, don't own Hetalia, but… no… I can't think of anything witty to say D:

To my readers: Sterling knows that she has way more that two people reading this story. And while Sterling normally doesn't care about reviews they tend to help Sterling write and get ideas (Which to some is probably not the best thing… like say… the characters Sterling writes about) they also make Sterling feel happier than she should. Sterling loves her reviewers and accepts Anoms. But it would do Sterling good to see that the people who read this like Sterling's story. Reviews also keep Sterling from talking in third-person. Which is bad for Sterling's health.

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Denmark nervously backed up, his hands in front of his chest in the universal sign of showing he was unarmed. What was the series of unfortunate- for Denmark- events that led up to this? Well you see not long after Sweden had started a comfortable fire had he brought up visiting Saga. Obviously that was something that Denmark did _not_ want to do. But Sweden was persistent. He wouldn't allow Denmark to get off so easily on this one, especially when his brother didn't look too good to begin with. "Y' n'd t' g't y'r b'nd'g' ch'ng'd." The Swedish Viking drawled marine eyes gleaming at Denmark darkly. In his hand Sweden held Denmark's battle-axe, its metal glowed in the light of the fire mocking the Dane. "G' 'r I'll h'rt y' w'th y'r 'wn 'x'." Sweden threatened emptily, but Denmark didn't need to know that.

However through careful attempts to sound menacing Sweden was able to get the message across to Denmark. Blue eyes widening the Dane bolted out the door almost forgetting about a small hunting knife for self-protection. Denmark didn't stop running at all, sprinting blindly down the path, panting as he overexerted himself, thinking that Sweden would carry out with his threats. The Nordic nation sprinted the one and half miles to Saga's house not stopping once worried that his brother was behind him. He came to a stop just outside the smaller path that led to the wise woman's doorstep. Denmark sloshed through the freezing rain and mud taking his time while wasting in all at the same time so he didn't have to go to her house. Shivering Denmark realized that his tactic didn't work and he still ended up at the older woman's doorstep. He was hesitant to knock, because let's face it, who knows what would happen to him? He expected pain to begin with so it would be even worse when she pulled the bandage off… right?

Still no Denmark, just like any other sane person, did not enjoy pain for…painfully obvious reasons, it seemed to be even worse when one expected it to be inflicted upon them. While the Dane was contemplating his fate the door opened in front of him to reveal Saga who grabbed him to pull the younger Viking into her much warmer house. "Your just like your father!" The older woman scolded the Dane who allowed him self to be lead into the house numbly. She guided him to take a seat on one of the beds shaking her head in disappointment. "First your brother and now you, one would have the audacity to think that you were scared of me!" The woman stated blandly, amused at her charges antics. The dim lighting of the fire in the hearth was giving the room a sort of dream-like feeling.

The woman turned around to the small table in the middle of the room, she had clearly expected Denmark to come and see her. Instruments were laid out on the smooth wooden surface as Denmark tried to peer at the contents of the table only to be shooed back. Finding what she needed Saga turned back to the Dane her tools in hand and sat on the edge of his bed. In response the blond nation flinched away from her pressing himself against the wall, the wood pricking at his skin.

This called for a vain attempt to change the subject, "Where's Norway?" Denmark asked Saga blue eyes warily sizing up the older woman, thinking of making a run for it.

"He went home," An exasperated sigh, apparently not in a good mood, Denmark swallowed hard getting on Saga's bad side was not on his to-do list, even for him and that was saying something. "He took a short-cut through the field." She finished pushing Denmark back; hand on his shoulder keeping him from edging away more than he already had. She frowned, that action alone was enough to make the adolescent's mind reel, what did he do? "You have a fever." She deadpanned.

"I feel fine." Denmark denied until he remembered to whom he was speaking to. He lowered his head and mumbled an apology resining himself to his fate. Saga sent him a stern look and leaned over to cut the bandage. He was looking away until he saw a glint of metal from the fire light in the woman's hand. That knife was huge. Denmark shot up eyes buzzing with suppressed fear. He subconsciously pressed his back to the wall. "…I don't trust you near my neck with that thing…" He trailed off nervously in another failed attempt to change the atmosphere. The older burnet woman rolled her eyes and pushed him back down on the bed to continue cutting away at the coarse plant fibers that composed the bandage. Denmark could feel the security draining out of the room. It no longer had the warmth that it once held for him when they had lost Scandinavia.

The Dane flinched as the woman finished cutting through the bandage the fibers falling away from him following the force of gravity brushing creepily against his forehead. But the fabric covering the gash was still covering his wound the strands of wool having been healed into the injury binding the fleece to it. _'Well this is going to be interesting.' _Denmark thought bitterly to himself squirming slightly in discomfort at the sharp marine eyes that stared down at him. The wise-woman took hold of the remaining cloth and pulled hard tearing it away from his head. The blond nation sat foreword suddenly, screaming, clutching at the reopened wound. He glared at Saga as blood welled between his fingers, panting slightly not amused in the least bit. The woman merely pressed the blond back onto the bed. He gave a small moan of pain cursing to him self as he looked at the blood on his hands feeling queasy as he looked at the mixture of blood, dirt, and puss. He swallowed heavily looking away from the blood, sometimes him and said red liquid just didn't get along, and today was one of those days.

"Your wound is infected," The wise-woman stated the obvious pressing a cloth against the livid gash. "I'm going to let the blood." She lifted her hand to press the knife against the seeping wound. Fluidly she cut into the gash stinging pain bit at the Dane's consciousness. Reflexively he whimpered and shied away biting his tongue to keep from screaming tears shinning in his eyes as the inflamed skin was torn in an attempt to let the infection run out like poison from a snake bite. Blood and fluids ran down the side of his head making his skin crawl.

Denmark let out a strangled breath the he'd been holding as a way to diverge the pain. However, it didn't seem to want to work for him he kept his eyes closed and jaw clenched, but that didn't stop feverish pleas from finding their way out of his throat.

The blond nation wanted to vomit. He suffered painting heavily hands stained with more of his own glistening blood, thin layer of sweat on his face, blue eyes glaring over at Saga who calmly washed her hands in a bowl of water, she took a cloth and proceeded to turn it a faint shade of pink as she wiped the nation's blood off of her hands. Grabbing another piece of cloth she turned to the adolescent sitting on the edge of his bed dabbing gently at the now hopefully clean wound, watching carefully as it clotted. Once the blood had turned to a congealed brownish black color she took another longer strip of coarse cream cloth and pulled the numb Dane into a sitting position wrapping it around the wound and pulling it snug to secure it in a manor that made the blond pull away slightly. She helped him back into a laying position and began to clean the dried blood off of his hands, humming to herself a lullaby. The older burnet woman sighed as she gently wiped the sweat from her charge's forehead pulling the back of a covered forearm against her own, surveying her work. No doubt the young country would hate her but it wasn't like she enjoyed inflicting pain. The older woman's heart twisted as Denmark looked ahead of him with a vacant expression dominating his countenance as he tried to glare at the door, blue eyes not wanting to focus. Saga leaned back down over Denmark kissing his forehead in a fashion that was not only motherly but also unbecoming of the older woman. She was known for her harsh, stern, and judgmental temperament not a warm one. But for those whom she loved she could make an exception, especially if no one was watching, couldn't let anyone think she was becoming sentimental in her old age… that would be a bad thing.

_Hetalia_

Sweden was loafing around enjoying mead for the first time since Denmark had deemed it illegal to drink and sail. '_One day it probably_ will _become a law_.' Sweden at the time had no idea how right he was, but as always France would claim that it was only wine and it wasn't drunk driving, er, I mean _sailing_, yes, _sailing_, well technically it could be driving too but that's a different story…

Now back to the story… so Sweden had deemed it worthy of a celebration that said Denmark was out of his hair and was about to take another swig of the alcohol that had been strategically stashed away from both Norway and Denmark when the same Norway that he'd been thinking of strode into the house, dripping from head to toe, shivering slightly as cold wind buffered him. He sauntered into the house slamming the door against a particularly strong gale; blond hair slicked back, blue eyes down cast as he shuffled forward.

Sweden looked suspiciously at his little brother, straight faced, eyes narrow. "W't 's 't?" The older Viking asked tersely. Norway just looked up at the taller Swede and sat heavily down on the bench, bland blue eyes metaphorically murdering the fire. Sweden felt somewhat insulted. Norway normally only ignored Denmark, and seeing as the fire was now looking a little peak-ish the nation decided that he could take the country's mind off of what ever it was that was eating at him so he didn't oust the fire with his magic, especially seeing as that fire didn't seem to like Sweden. If only he knew. Norway coughed hoarsely looking regretful. Now Sweden was worried, his brother never really showed emotion, most of all regret. Deciding that it would just be best to give him something to drink and eat the larger nation grabbed the rest of the salted fish and the mead, lumbering over to his little brother.

Sweden glanced at Norway awkwardly out of the corner of his eye. "H'r'." he mumbled giving the other bleach blond nation the fish and mead. For once the Norwegian adolescent took the offered food, but not really eating it. So Sweden being the socially awkward individual that we all know and love attempted to make conversation with Norway only to be glared at by the aforementioned Norwegian. So stiffly the nation got up seeing his brother as a lost cause and retuned to the safety of his side of the ridiculously large house. He laid on his back looking up at the wood smoke that tinted the air a crisp earthy scent. The gray smoke contrasting wit the dark shadows and pelting of the rain and wind as it collected towards the highest peak of the roof before it filtered into the wall of water that was battering the house creating a hallow sound.

Silence hung heavy between the two brothers as Sweden slowly drifted off to sleep the familiar feeling of his home with it's dirt floor and whispering walls that told stories of ancient times small carvings reminiscent of better times. The nation tilted his head to the side so he could better watch the fire and keep an eye on his brother who was acting a little more eccentric than normal, but then again older siblings always thought that their younger siblings were a little…odd… especially if one had Denmark for a brother, obviously. Sweden let his eyes close pressing his back against the wall, left arm serving as a pillow for his head. He could somewhat trust Norway to not burn the house down while he was sleeping…right? Sweden soon found himself wishing that he had drank more mead earlier.

_Hetalia_

Birds chirped through the walls of the Nordic's house. The youngest occupant glared at the wall almost as if imagining the birds exploding, or imploding, which ever comes first. The sun was out. Norway just knew it; it was always like that, so cliché. Norway sighed and stretched his legs, back and neck popping as they protested about him and his _oh so great _idea of falling asleep sitting up. The younger nation glared over at a still sleeping Sweden who was dead against the wall of the house. The Norwegian got up from where he was sitting, nearly tripping on the fire pit in his staggering, having gotten up to quickly. The nation squinted in the darkness and walked towards the doorway grumbling to him self all the while. Opening the door slowly, the door creaking slightly as he pulled the old wooden door away from the closed position that it had been in. Wincing the nation looked over his shoulder to see Sweden still asleep. Sighing Norway walked out the door to go to his horse for a ride to clear his thoughts of the charges that were pressed on him for his actions... and to try his luck with getting Saga to drop the charges.

But seeing as the young nation's luck was currently sucking right now Sweden, of course, heard him leave. "Wh'r' d' y' th'nk y'r g'ng?" his brother's deep voice rang out behind him making the smaller country jump in surprise. So he'd been caught red-handed, joy. Norway turned slightly to his elder brother, his night colored eyes scrutinizing the other nation trying to figure out if he should answer him or not. Sweden repeated his question calmly thinking that his brother merely couldn't understand him seeing as he'd just woken up Sweden was a little harder to understand. However, he didn't know that this time his accent wasn't the case. Norway chose that moment to come up with a, hopefully believable, lie.

"I was just going to go for a ride." The younger blond stated keeping mind that his voice remained even and he didn't break eye contact with the nation. Sweden nodded and turned to go inside the long house. Norway sighed walking around the house the cool morning air offering his mind peace. After all it wasn't _really _a lie, he was going to go for a ride, '_I just didn't say where I was going to go_…' the Norwegian thought to himself as he got on his horse, the animal was already getting it's wooly winter coat, the velvet nose twitching as the equine looked over at his rider a bemused expression seeming to show in the Fjord's eyes. Snapping out of his stupor Norway kicked the horse into an extended canter, the hollow sound of small hooves on the frozen ground as the path went by in a mix of gold, green, red, and brown.

All to soon Norway realized that the horse had stopped in front of Saga's house. Dismounting the Norwegian's horse turned around and ran through the field taking the short cut back to his home. '_Thanks for nothing_…' the adolescent thought sarcastically as he watched his horse gallop through the field. Turning back to the door the Nordic nation knocked on the thick wood, and not much later Saga appeared at the doorstep. Subconsciously shifting his weight Norway looked the wise-woman in the eye. "So about those charges…"

"What charges?" Saga asked and Norway couldn't help but reflexively smile.

* * *

Don't shoot! *****ducks* I know it's short, but this was such a good spot to leave off, don't worry the next chapter will be longer, however don't expect me to be updating much, the cold weather is killing my joints, and so it's hard to type, but don't worry! I'll keep writing, this is just a note to let you all know that it may take exponentially longer for me to post chapters.

**Historical stuffs-**

The small hunting knife is a reference to the fact that Europe was dangerous at that time- even for Vikings, other Vikings would go and try and fight them for land and stuff because you needed a LOT of land to support a family (most families included aunts and uncles, grandparents, children etc. so there were about thirty to fifty people) because the land wasn't fertile and you do the math.

Infertile land+ hungry people= fights

The mead, if you drank the water at this time frame you'd die (It was the sewage system people… and people bathed in it to…)

**The medical stuffs-**

Okay so the whole blood letting thing they did do and if you had a fever you were almost as good as dead, you had to have a good immune system, especially if the aforementioned fever was because of an infection from a flesh wound.

**Character stuff-**

By the way you guys I've decided that Saga is thirty-eight so if that helps you picture her better…

**Horse stuff-**

By the way a Norwegian Fjord is a type of Norwegian horse (pronounced: f-yourd) they are so cute! They normally have primitive markings and a dorsal (back) stripe they are fairly small and a little on the stalky side.

A canter is faster than a jog (trot) and slower than a gallop (run) it's where the horse has three hoofs on the ground, most horses have four gaits (walk, trot, canter, gallop) but some have more (I think the Icelandic horse has six…I'm not sure)


	8. Welcome to the Dark Side!

Time- winter of 800 C.E

Oh noes you guys this story is starting to wind down and come to a close D: we are getting close to the conquest of Normandy here! I almost didn't want to write this chapter!

Well! Here we go!

I do not own Hetalia in any way shape or form, however I do own a pen, a notebook, and a computer. The original creators should fear me… I'm a Fanfic writer! Here me roar! Meow.

Norway slunk into Saga's house as the wise- woman shuffled aside, motioning for her youngest charge to step into the house her expression suddenly serious. "Keep your voice down." Saga warned the blond haired nation in a hushed tone, "Your brother just fell asleep. His fever was keeping him awake." The older woman put a guiding hand on the Norwegian adolescent's back leading him towards the back of the small house. Norway looked over at Denmark who was laying on his back, an unnatural position for the Dane. The gash on the larger nation's head had been re-bandaged with fresh cloth and his face had a light sheen of sweat covering it. The sleeping Danish Viking's eyebrows were knitted together and his jaw was clenched in pain as he battled feverish horrors.

Something about seeing his older brother like that made a stirring of fear well up in Norway's chest but he quickly pushed it back down. It was also around that time that he realized that Saga was softly calling to him in both his human and nation names. Dumbly Norway looked at her snapping out of his trance to looked at the calculating green eyes. Swallowing a little harder than normal Norway returned Saga's penetrating gaze with his own, much darker, blue version. The older woman didn't look away but her gaze seemed to deepen much more than it already was. "Norway." The sincerity of the middle-aged woman's tone scared him, more so than he would like to admit. It almost seemed as though she was about to break bad news to him.

Saga gently cradled the side of Norway's face with her hand, the younger flinching slightly on impulse but not loosening his tongue enough to offer a scathing remark. She let her eyes graze the area where she'd struck him the night before; already there was a slightly discolored bruise. Turning her eyes back to his Saga gazed evenly at the nation whom she watched over. "You will find your life is about to get a lot more complicated." The Norwegian that stood before her offered her a frown, opening his mouth to protest that his life was already complicated enough. "All you need to know is that you have your brothers. Protect each other and you will be strong, however, alone you'll be weak." Saga interrupted Norway before he could get a word in edgewise. He didn't like how his guardian was speaking to him, it was too close to his father's last words, it made the muscles in his chest tighten and his heart fluttered around in the cage that it was trapped in like a canary in a mine.

"A-Are you…dying?" Already Norway regretted the words that escaped his vocal cords, the words sounding hollow as he managed to find his voice quick enough to choke them out. What he was feeling was bad. He was becoming attached to the wise-woman, viewing her like his mother. And he already knew what would happen to those that he became attached to, they would end up like his father, and at the center it would be him, it was his fault.

Norway's eyes threatened to betray him as the blond haired adolescent adverted his gaze to the floor trying to stop his throat from knotting. And just when he'd thought that he'd begun to get over his father's death. Inwardly he winced as his heart, the fragile canary, was caught and twisted cruelly in the harsh and teasing grip of fate. Could he never catch a break? Norway's breathing hitched for a fraction of a second realizing that he'd almost broken down in front of Saga. The burnet woman looked genuinely surprised by all of this, which was saying a lot for the stoic older woman. Her expression hardened. And in a sudden and uncharacteristic burst of maternal worry she gently rubbed her thumb against Norway's cheekbone. 'He's become so much like me.' She thought sadly to herself, but she was only human and couldn't always be there for her boys. They would have to deal with another death all to soon. She had to think of a way to comfort her so- no her _charge_ so quickly, for she was true to her name a wise-woman, Saga thought of a quick little half truth.

"Lukas." Norway looked back up to meet green eyes. "Everyone eventually dies, we are all dying, we just do so at different times." Saga finished looked at the adolescent with raised eyebrows. Norway slowly, reluctantly, nodded agreeing with her statement even if it gave him painful flashbacks to his father and when he had left Norway with Saga because the Ancient Country thought of his youngest son as being too weak. 'Pity that the 'weakest' turned out to be the one to kill him.' Norway thought to himself bitterly.

The young Norwegian male once again dropped his gaze accepting Saga's harsh truths. He turned to leave with conflicting emotions that threatened to burst forth from within; only the faltering façade that he kept up was enough to stop his elders from asking questions. Norway could almost identify each emotion. He was happy that his charges had been dropped and in the deepest recesses of his mind? Norway found himself happy that his older brother was all right, well as all right as the Great Accident-prone Denmark could get. That was saying a lot mind you! However, his mind veered toward much more dark thoughts, he was worried that Saga knew more than she was letting on.

Absentmindedly the bond nation walked through the tall stalks of golden grain, what type of grain it was he had no idea, nor did he really care to begin with. Norway let his thoughts wonder as he looked up to the sky and watched the clouds pass by.

_Hetalia_

Sweden was alerted to the sharp thumbing of hooves as he turned around to look up to find Norway's horse running toward him at a full gallop. It's ears were pricked forward, steam coming from its nostrils as the frightened animal sprinted toward him to come skidding to a halt, showering the northern nation with specks of mud and grain from its compact hoofs as it reared bicolored mane flowing about it, having not been cut since the summer. Sweden grabbed the crude bridle of the horse, petting the bridge of the animal's nose to calm it. So Norway went to visit Saga? He could tell because even the horse was somewhat afraid of the older woman, she had that aura around her. Some warhorse _he_ was. It almost reminded him of that look that the Russian country he knew got in his eye every so often.

Sigh. At least he wouldn't have to walk to the village area. Well, that was before a young man came frantically galloping up the muddy path. What did Denmark do _now?_ The man on the horse reined in his animal the beast snorting, stomping its hoof in annoyance. "T-the chieftain. Is dead." The man than slid off his horse, shock lighting in his muddy brown eyes as an arrow, ironically made from young mistletoe, protruded from his throat.

Blood, pressurized from the body shot out like a torrent. The messenger writhed on the ground, making harsh gurgling sounds, his coronary artery having been severed. Tears of fear made the man's eyes glassy. His horse roared and reared, pulling back. Norway's fjord took off, having been spooked by the blood. Sweden quickly kneeled down next to the muddied and bloodied man. It was no use. The damage was done. A gaping dark hole showed through the windpipe, white cartilage of the fragile respiratory track crushed and splinted throughout skin, muscle, and sinew.

The horse, struck down on the flailing man, having been blinded itself in the fear of blood. A sudden attempted shriek escaped the man in his half conscious state, the blood having turned the action to a loud gurgle. It didn't last long as Sweden soon heard the sickening crunch of bone as sharp hooves crushed the man's skull sending gray matter around the body's head releasing a stench unknown to this world as the chemicals from the brain and blood mixed, fluids dripping from the smashed skull. The thundering of hooves was in the distant now as the mad horse fled the scene. So there'd be anarchy. 'Just when we thought that we'd gotten over one death…' Sweden trailed off, getting up from his kneeling position at the side of the corps. He wiped the blood and sticky purple-gray gray matter from his face, the acid making his skin crawl.

It was then that he heard the soft rustling of the grain, a flattened path forming as Norway emerged from the vast sea. Thinking quickly Sweden nimbly darted over to his younger brother, not letting him see the body, his instincts kicking in as he desire to protect the younger, headstrong, Norwegian out weighed any other rational thought. Norway stopped short, his blue eyes gazing up at Sweden before he recognized the stench of death. Eyes widening slightly, a motion uncharacteristic of the stubborn nation, Norway attempted to see around Sweden. That resulted in a comical dance that the older Swede lost. The sight of the messenger's body seemed to console him. 'Weird,' Sweden thought to him self, 'I would've thought that he would feel sick by that… maybe its voluntary?' The nation tilted his head to the side. His question was answered when his little brother's legs gave out weakly from under him, his breathing heavy. Norway looked a little green, then the color drained from his face and his body broke out in a cold sweat. Sweden stooped down to where Norway kneeled next to the body his eyes level on the unmoving, bloating corps. He pulled his brother away from the lifeless figure tearing the blue eyes from the faceless man. If one looked closely one could see the faint green glow under Norway's palms…

_Hetalia_

Denmark arched his back away from the bed that he lay upon in discomfort, fever raging. Saga at his side in a vain attempt to fight against the Nightly that crouched hungrily on the Dane's chest beady eyes fastened on his prey's vulnerable expression feeding off of his fear that radiated throughout the room attracting other of it's kind. She tried to ignore the commotion of the screaming horses from outside. Thin spider-like fingers dug into the cloth of Denmark's tunic, it grew stronger form the fear and agony. Saga cursed indignantly as she tried every which way to get rid of the blasted creature, but it was all for naught. Her strength was fading faster than she'd anticipated. So she settled for the desperate solution of waking her so- _charge _up…

_Denmark eased himself into a rough fighting stance. He was holding a broad sword that was much to large for him and forced him off balance. Bright eyes set in violent determination the nation lunged forward at the much larger, older figure. It took him a moment to realize that he was fighting with his father. 'So this is when he first thought me how to defend myself?' The Dane thought to him self, bemused._

_The scene slowly began to morph and the young male could feel the world become smaller as he grew taller as he aged up until the point that he currently was at. Finding a great interest in this memory of the long forgotten past the Dane decided to explore his surroundings. He strode through the woods looking every which way as he tried to determine the direction he was going in. Sadly he wasn't one who was good with directions and was soon completely lost. 'Well, if this isn't cliché.' He thought taking a page out of Norway's Book Of Sarcasm. He continued until his body suddenly reverberated and the ground became closer, his back and shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. _

_The only thing that registered in Denmark's now sluggish mind was that he'd just been hit. Hard. Rubbing the edge of his jaw, spitting out a clot of blood and shivering when his tongue felt the jagged cut caused by his molars, tingling sensation of pain dulling in his cheek as warm copper swirled around his mouth sickeningly. Denmark looked up. What he saw was nothing short of startling. Frozen in fear. Heart beating a marathon. Trembling. A weak whimper threatening to escape his knotted throat as he let more blood rush into his mouth as the blond nation bit his tongue to hold back the fear that swam in his eyes. The exact copy of bright, normally hyperactive, blue eyes, stared down at him with pure, murderous, hatred, hatred that the Dane had only seen his _father_ use on his _enemies. _His father _hated _him. He could feel his heart stop, twisted into a Celtic knot. The blond nation coughed back a cry of pain, heart twisting as he strangled a sob in his throat. He lowered his head just long enough for his father to take a step towards him. Snapping to attention Denmark scrabbled backwards, mind reeling; his own father, the man that he looked up to, practically worshiped the ground he walked upon, wanted to be like when he grew up to be a full-fledged nation hated him. Scandinavia hated Denmark and the latter didn't even know why._

_The sound of air being sliced by a nimble, calculating, blade was the next thing that Denmark heard. What he felt? Searing pain. Finding no will to hold back cries and pleas for mercy Denmark screamed. The blade was lifted up for the younger of the two males to see it's enchanted metal, lined with runes, was coated in a thick layer of blood that flowed into them. They became highlighted in the sacred color of the gods. Tears finally won against the Dane for once more he was powerless. Putting a hand to the slit in his stomach letting a pain-filled scream rip from his vocal cords when he realized that his abdomen had been sliced open. Head swimming Denmark could see the pale color of his intestines. Denmark looked weakly up at his father, gargling blood. The sense of betrayal manifesting on his countenance as he called reflexively for his father to save him, burying his head in the ground as this, this _monster_ smiled down upon his supposed son. _

_Denmark's tortured cries died down to soft whimpers of fear, tears flowing down his face when the beast knelt down next to him. This was the man that he'd mourned for. His_ _**far. **__The man looked down at him smiling with malice. "You weak little bastard." Scandinavia snarled affectionately. Denmark cringed, glassy blue eyes widening as his face paled from blood loss and horror as he bleed out on the lushes grasses. More tears found their way to his eyes as fear caressed his mind. "Not even that damned pathetic excuse of a younger brother is as weak as you." Denmark could feel the crunch of bone as the blade pierced the fragile frame of his arm. Muscle and flesh tore audibly as the squelching sound of blood filled the young Dane's ears but not as much as the inadequate feeling that came from his twisting heart. The blond nation's throat released a choked attempt at a cry of pain. His eyes were fogging. Denmark took the verbal beating from his father as Scandinavia planted more weight on his son's arm. _

"_F-far pl-ease… st-stop." Denmark begged coughing another clot of blood wishing for his father to realize what was going on and save him like he was supposed to. Fathers were supposed to protect their children… right? Or was he not worthy of his father's protection. Denmark heaved a heavy sob more pleas coming from his bloodied mouth. They fell on deaf ears. _

_Fear. _

_How long was it going to last? _

_Finally an answer. But it wasn't the one he was looking for._

"_I hope you die you hateful son-of-a-bitch." Scandinavia snarled, pulling his broad sword from his son's near-severed right arm. Denmark felt himself loose all reason at that point. He writhed, begged, and cried for Sweden, his father, Saga…even Norway. The older copy of the young Viking brought his sword up and posed to strike, the point of the blade cutting into Denmark's sore throat. With that his father drove the blade home. It tore through the soft, unprotected tissue of his throat, but not severing his cervical vertebra- yet. "YOU killed me." Scandinavia spat at his mentally scarred son. The boy struggled to breath, eyes wide and full. _

_Then._

_They saw no more…_

Denmark screamed as he shot upright, the Night terror went fleeing with its companions, dissipating. The adolescent clutched at his throat forcing him self into Saga's arms.

Denmark's breathing came in short uneven raspy gasps, tears entangling themselves in the wise woman's brown hair. He shook as the panic attack took its course. The burnet woman gently petted the nation's hair soothingly murmuring to him that what he saw was a lie. She managed to make out the panicked words 'He hates me.' Her maternal side taking over as the older woman went into autopilot. "Who is he?" she whispered as Denmark exhausted himself, his breathing slowing down as he leaned against the woman he viewed as '_mor._'

Glazed eyes looked over to her, the teen's face pale with terror unknown to the wise woman. She pulled back in surprise. Her boys normally didn't fear anything… "Scan-dinavia." Denmark shivered swallowing heavily pressing against the might known as Saga. The blond let himself relax forcing the tension out of his shoulders. It was then that he frowned and threw a pointless question at his guardian; "Am I weak?"

Saga looked down at the young Viking taken aback buy the suddenness of the question. Was this really the energetic country that she had taken to as an adoptive son since she couldn't have her own? Numbly she replied; "…That's stupid, you're not weak…" She stated absently resting her chin on Denmark's head letting the Dane drift off to sleep. Sighing she laid him back walking across the room to a small chest. Looking down she unlocked the storage device, a 'wedding gift' from Scandinavia to find vials of medicine. Coughing into her hand the woman grimaced as a clot of blood worked its way up her trachea. She had to fight her own battles as well.

She was not granite.

Wow, well things sure are getting darker… hmm… you guys don't think this is too much do you?

Take a look at the poll on my page to vote for the story that I should write next after this one!

Hey-ya guess what? History Rewritten is gonna be an animated Nekotalia series! I've already got a sample animation up on my DA account (that same animation is SCAD approved- it saved me in a portfolio pinch; they really like the animation ;) I never thought I'd use Fanfiction for a portfolio- building thing! )

Here's the link just take out the spaces! - snowfirewolf. deviantart #/ d5ndfq5

If anyone is willing to voice just PM me :)

Historical/Cultural Notes-

The death of the chieftain- Believe it or not but there was a type of hierarchy in the Viking times. The chieftain was in charge, however he was killed sometimes if he lost popularity or something.

The YOUNG mistletoe- this actually comes right out of a story from Norse Mythology. The idea is the bonds that living creature have. The story goes that the god Baldur (Bright one) was slain by a young mistletoe dart by Hodur the blind god. The mistletoe was too young to make an oath to not harm Baldur.

Denmark's nightmare- Denmark believes that he killed his father thus breaking his Frith bond with him (Frith= peace) that leads to bad örlog (Örlog= primal law) it's a rather large wrong doing to kill someone and puts his fate and honor at risk (if you kill someone then your Örlog is marked as a killer and you wont have a place to go when you die)

Magic- Saga practices a mixture of Seidhr and Spae-Craft with slight knowledge of Runes while Norway practices Galdr and Seidhr.

Seidhr- almost no runes used, communication with the spiritual side of reality. (Mostly woman but some men knew it as well)

Spae-Craft- People who knew rhythms of the seasons, healing, etc. (Mostly women)

Galdr- usually taps into the energy of the person, used alone for changes in environment, uses runes and chanting, etc. (mostly used by males)

Runic Divination- Was actually really common, runes were carved on stone, reddened with blood then cast and read

Magic is a double-edged sword (That's why Orvar accused Norway of witchcraft) It can both harm and heal

Red= color of the gods- Red is the normal color that runes were written in.

Translations-

Far- Danish- Father

Mor- Danish- Mother


	9. Fallen Goddess

One of the final chapters…however… lots of stuff happens in this chapter that I didn't create on purpose to make the story longer or anything crazy like that, no not at all…

Nor: She did it just to torture us more….

Norway how dare you insinuate such a thing!

Nor: I'm not insinuating anything. It's a fact. And believe me Sterling doesn't own Hetalia *shivers* I'd hate to think of what it would be if she did…

WARNING: Really sad chappy ahead! Ye hast been warned!

* * *

Days progressed and soon Denmark's fever broke, much to his relief. However that was the only good thing to come of as the days passed. The snows came blanketing the ground in a swath of cold frost. The chief, Gunnar, had been murdered and the culprit was still wondering the streets picking off the old chief's family one by one. It was no mystery as to why he was killed for the people were suspicious of his dealing's with the seeming to never age Scandinavia and his friendship towards the strangers being the strongest. They were hospitable to Scandinavia and his sons at first they coexisted with each other for a large period of time… that was until series of bad luck began to plague the area. Harsher winters and more fights with surrounding areas than usual threatened the peoples and Gunnar fell out of favor, his luck having run out. Thus it was no surprise when he was found dead on the path to the village right by the home of the three brothers. The people knew, however, that his death wasn't an honorable one, but an act of cowardice. So the hunt for his murderer had begun.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

Sweden grumbled as he cautiously walked to Saga's house the road having become treacherous after the death of the chief a power struggle occurring within the town fueled by panic. Norway had managed to get him to go see the old woman to ask her if she knew anything about the murder. Of course Sweden knew that she knew so he didn't really see the point of having to go to see her, especially when he could be sitting in his house enjoying the fire that Norway no dubitably had to him self. Muttering to himself in Swedish Sweden knocked on the door to be met by… Denmark… oh joy.

The Dane grinned and promptly attempted to tackle Sweden (who was now taller than the Dane as opposed to a few months ago.) However Sweden, though he had expected the attack, tripped over his own two feet and ended up being tackled to the ground anyway. Reflexively the young Viking punched his brother, not lightly at all mind you this _is _Denmark, in the shoulder effectively earning a yelp and the ability to sit up for Denmark had jumped backward in surprise. The Dane gave his brother a faux semi hurt look and got up from his sprawling position in the snow. Sweden felt his shoulders go lax in relief, though he did his best to hide it. Sweden would never hear the end of it if Denmark saw that he was relieved that the Dane wasn't as sick as he'd been earlier that week. "Wh'r' 's S'g'?" Sweden mumbled ignoring his brother rambled on about how Sweden was so much weaker than him seeing as he'd just tackled the larger Viking. Sweden was too lazy to say that he'd already been off balance to begin with. The blond nation just wanted to see Saga and get dealing with Denmark over with, besides he'd left Norway back at the house with a _fire_, it was a known fact that the young Norwegian's mood had taken a nose dive into a lake and he liked to strengthen his skills with fire as much as he could since the cold could only last so long in the southern countries' land.

_Anyway_ back to the story. Sweden waited for Denmark to answer as he contemplated all of the valuables in the house that he owned and how he should go about replacing him should the house catch fire because of Norway's volatile temper. It was a sort of early form of insurance.

"Well. You missed her, sent to make a house call. Something about a child… Sweden?" Denmark rambled pausing only to notice that his brother was walking away from him back down the path. He'd wasted that time to come and see the wise-woman and she wasn't even there! Now the sun had almost set and her protection with her. They- meaning Sweden- would be walking home in the dark. That was a dangerous thing because as mentioned above there was great unrest and fear now because of the death of the leader. This wasn't something that Sweden wanted him self or his family involved in so he was going to do his best and stay out of it. But that didn't stop Denmark from sprinting to catch up with his brother, both of them carrying their respective weapons wary of their surroundings.

They had almost made it through the too silent roar of the path and onto their land safely once more when they ran into trouble. A falcon circled overhead crying out to its master. That was enough to get the brothers sprinting blindly through the darkness in a feeble attempt to avoid confrontation at all cost. Especially since Denmark couldn't quite fight yet without feeling light headed. As a matter of fact the Dane was breathing rather heavily and lagging already. Those falcons were used for hunting. Sweden felt his heart go to his throat. They were being hunted. That thought sent a chill down Sweden's spine.

The world seemed to go in slow motion. The chill of the night air bit into Sweden's bones heightened by fear as Denmark tripped over a root sticking up conspicuously from the ground. It was then that horseman, a dozen in all burst from the fog. Broad swords, axes, hammers, bows and arrows…everything. They formed a circle around Sweden and Denmark weapons at the brothers' throats. Following Denmark as he slowly got up. The peace didn't last.

The falcon cried. All hell broke loose.

Sweden tried to keep his back against his brother's. The horse's hoof beats pelting the compact ground as they blew smoke from their nostrils. The first man struck, Sweden parried. The blow was stronger than he had anticipated and his blade was only able to glance off of the surface. His opponent's sword embedding itself in the scar tissue in his shoulder where once upon a time there was a shard of wood. This elected a cry of pain from the Swede as blood spurted from the wound. Sweden could see Denmark's shocked blue eyes staring horrified at him. It didn't last. Blood seeped from Sweden's back as the same sword came down on him biting into his rib cage, almost enough to kill, but purposefully weak- yet sloppy. The Swedish Viking lashed up at his attacker, successfully killing the horse and forcing the rider to the ground where he made quick work of him. Two more replaced him. Glancing back the blond nation realized that his brother was no longer behind him.

Denmark was backed up against a tree, six remaining attackers firing arrows upon him. He swung blindly, blood running into his eyes as he hacked at one of his assailants. The Dane managed to break through the attackers and make it back to Sweden who was having problems of his own.

Denmark had just made it back to his brother, fighting hard to keep his head up, back against Sweden's as they looked at the shadows that swarmed around them. This was no normal fight. They were outnumbered and outclassed. It was something that neither brother wanted to admit but the fact stared them bluntly in the face. The world spun as the influence took over, a vain attempt for them to not go down.

Denmark's world spun as the sickening squelching sound of a spear going through his abdomen reached his ears. The Dane collapsed on to the ground eyes wide with shock. Something so simple had felled the Dane before he could even truly begin to fight. It was almost as if they knew he and his brother were relying heavily on the influence to guide them in their plight.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

Norway was startled away from his place by the fire by a harsh knock at the door to his house. Scrambling to his feet unevenly the Norwegian adolescent drowsily staggered to the door to pull it open and see Saga standing before him, a solemn look on her face. "Denmark and Sweden have been attacked…" Those words were all the Viking needed to hear, not listening anymore as he rushed for his hammer and sprinting out the door. He didn't even know where he was going, but something, one could call it fate, was guiding him down the path to Saga's cottage. Taking a deep breath Norway let the influence slip into place in his mind, relinquishing control over his body to instinct.

Norway burst through the snow, the drifts pulling at his legs frost biting at his fingers and any exposed skin, the silver light of the moon reflecting off his eyes almost giving them a glowing property. Blindly the young Norwegian swung at the first attacker, relishing the feeling of blood as it ran thickly into the runes and designs that coated the war hammer. He vaguely noticed Sweden fighting off somewhere to his right, the Swede looking drained as he pressed a hand to a wound on his torso. Denmark was nowhere in sight. Snow spiraled downwards in a maddening haze. Norway felt his heart jump to his throat when he noticed the Dane laying in the middle of the road, on his side, face oddly calm, spear turning the muddied ground a dark cognac. New anger burned in each swing of his weapon of choice, literally crushing the enemy as he made his way to his fallen brother. A strangled cry resonated through the shattered velvet night making the Norwegian turn his head. Just as Sweden's throat was slit. The older nation fell forward running his enemy through with his blade. Sweden kneeled on the ground, not far from where Norway himself kneeled by Denmark, hands glowing green. He couldn't heal both his brother's. And seeing as he needed Sweden to help carry Denmark back to the house where Saga was waiting Norway reluctantly left Denmark and shuffled over to Sweden who was gurgling on his own pool of blood.

The cut wasn't deep, just barely puncturing Sweden's windpipe just below his jaw. A sloppy cut. Norway could force the blood to clot and he knew that Sweden was much more easier to heal then Denmark was. Thus that being said in no time the young Viking had his brother's bleeding in his throat stemmed. Carefully Norway moved the energy in his hands to deal with the laceration forming a nice clean cut. Should be easy enough to heal. But Norway could only stem the bleeding on that wound also for fear of using more energy then he currently possessed body feeling weak as he took in the sight of blood and rancid smell of dead bodies already freezing. "Swe-den." Norway whispered faintly unable to control his phobia any longer as his body began to shut down, breathing uneven, Norway lethargically motioned to where Denmark lay broken in the muddy snow unmoving.

Luckily Sweden was able to get the message and pulling himself to his feet weight supported on his sword the nation stumbled over to his brother a blank look on his face as he raised his broad sword. Locking eyes with the nervous blue slits that stared back at him, before Denmark closed his eyes and fell limp. Sweden struck down with his broad sword. The sound of splintering wood resonated off of the bodies, snow already beginning to encase them in an icy tomb. The end of the spear lay in the snow the metal spear tip lodged in Denmark's body.

Struggling Sweden managed to pull Denmark up into a slouched standing position with much protest from the Dane who leaned heavily on his brother. He began to help Denmark back to where Norway was trying to stand, using his hammer to keep his balance. But the young Norwegian's eyes were locked on the sight before him and it took every fiber of his being to not be sick. Sweden ripped a piece of cloth from the hem of his tunic and tied it around Norway's eyes prohibiting him from seeing the gore that lay before him. And weakly the three brothers numbly made their way down the trail, patchy and snow-covered to their home.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

They, after freezing nearly to death, made it to their house. And Sweden, deeming it safe to take Norway's blindfold off untied the knot that held it in place, motioning for the Norwegian to go inside the house and get Saga to help him heal Denmark. Norway opened the wooden door to find the house in a dim state of lighting. The fire had died down to a few burning embers that just barely lit the surrounding area. However what the Norwegian saw was anything but welcoming.

There were two corpses on the ground. One was the supposed dead chieftain, Orvar, a hole torn in his windpipe… and the other… Norway suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Saga laid there, spread eagle on the floor, breathing shallow, her chest torn open, rib cage split and lungs splayed across her shoulders. Her brown hair flowed around her, matted and clumping with congealing black-red blood. The scent of the air tainted a vile metallic odor. Norway swore he could see his guardian's heart beat as her lungs expanded with each raspy breath. Norway could feel himself start to shake uncontrollably, the room spinning as it slowly lost any light it had left. The adolescent vaguely noticed Sweden enter, practically drop Denmark to catch him as the smaller blond nation's legs gave out. Norway could hear his brother's breathing catch as he took in the sight before him. Norway tried to look away from their dying guardian but he couldn't pull himself away as his muscles had gone involuntarily lax, mind numb as he processed the events that had taken place probably only minutes before they entered their home.

Before long Norway's dizziness faded, much to his displeasure, as he would have rather fallen unconscious as opposed to having to face the harsh reality that lay dying before his very eyes. Sweden had helped Denmark to lie beside Saga so the older woman could guide the tallest Nordic in healing his brother, Norway all but forgotten. The young Norwegian just stared at the scene before he made an attempt at standing. Limping over to his brothers the nation sunk back down to his knees by Denmark and Saga any sign of life in the latter of the two fading quickly. "Saga?" The nation whispered voice distant, hollow, much like the corps that would soon be before him. The woman's marine eyes flicked to him, her mouth curving slightly, blood painting her lips red, as she turned back to Sweden silent command for him to move out of the way for Norway to heal Denmark evident in her dulling eyes.

"Y-you know wh-at to d-do." She strained through her vocal cords looking back up at Norway. The blond nation in question swallowed thickly as he turned to Denmark, palms glowing a faint green at his weak attempts at focusing. That was when he realized. She was dying. Denmark's wound wasn't the only source of the life-giving substance that painted the ground in dark, gritty splotches. Norway's breath hitched, baring his teeth to try and hold his emotions back as the glowing beneath is palms died down to a dull whisper. The nation closed his eyes as a bottled breath escaped him, Sweden looking at him with the closest thing to understanding that the other nation could offer, his brother's aquatic colored eyes much resembling the ocean in the fact that they were shinning with suppressed anguish. Norway jumped slightly as a hand was placed over his own and the faint glow gradually became stronger. Nearly afraid to look down Norway's blue eyes found a bloodied hand over his own. It was then that the nation finally submitted to his emotions as Saga gave him the last of her energy to allow him to heal his brother. The light beneath his palms remained at its vibrant hue even when the wise woman removed her hand, falling limply to the ground. "Sw-eden." She forced as the light from Norway's healing magic died down, fading. The muscles in Denmark's face relaxing slightly as the physical pain was alleviated and the emotional turmoil took its place. Sweden got up on shaky legs to move to Saga's left, taking her hand in his as he watch the woman he called 'mother' slowly die in front of him using more of her energy to heal his slit throat. Denmark struggled to his elbows, panting slightly trying to look anywhere but at Saga one arm over the scar tissue that was now all that remained of the spear wound chest feeling as through an ox was standing on it. The Dane watched as Norway tried to turn and heal their moth- guardian but not able to as Denmark grabbed his arm.

"N-Nor, don't." He pleaded with his younger brother. All of the magic in the world couldn't bring the wise woman back and the Dane knew it. He shook his head at Norway solemnly watching with a pained expression at the Norwegian's reaction as he managed to twist out of Denmark's vice grip and bury his face in his -might as well come to terms with it- mother's neck.

"I-I lo-ve you… m-my s-sons." Denmark barely registered tears slipping down his own blood-streaked face as Sweden let out a cry of pain.

Saga was dead.

* * *

Yes I killed Saga. I didn't think that you guys liked her all that much so… yeah… by the way there's going to be a crazy plot twist with all of this so this chapter is pretty important.

Historical Notes:

Saga's Death- Is actually a form of torture that the Vikings, namely Ivar the Boneless, used on their victims. It is where the chest is opened up, the ribs are removed and the lungs are splayed out on the shoulders. It was known as the 'Bloody Eagle' because of how the corps looked.

Gunnar Falling out of favor- this did happen actually, though not dishonorably, the chieftain would fall out of favor then he would be killed and a new chieftain would take his place.

Cultural Notes:

Dishonor-. There is a recorded event- yes this happened- when a few Vikings were captured by a rival king but escaped. They were going to steal his treasures but it would have been thievery if they had just stolen the stuff and not let him fight for it. So they went and woke the king up, fought and killed him, then burned down his house and took his stuff. Honor was actually a big thing with the Vikings.

Character Notes:

Saga: No Saga is not, in any way, shape, or form related to Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. She adopted them because she couldn't have her own children and it was considered odd if one wasn't married with a family back then. They weren't really close, but as the years came and went they gradually developed mother/son bonds, as you can tell they all didn't come to terms with these bonds until her death.


	10. People Like The Color Red

Chapter 10 of History Rewritten~ And guess who shows up in this chapter~

* * *

Norway awoke the next morning to the gelled smell of congealed blood and death. It had only been two days since their guard- _mother's_ death. It was something that the three brothers were faced with all too soon and Norway found himself slipping more, and more often into a daze, staring into a warmth-less fire, searching for any sign of the happiness that was a part of his life only a few years before. The blond nation found himself bringing his knees up to his chest in an attempt to comfort him self. For now he was nothing more than an outer shell, hollow, much like a dead, rotted, tree trunk. Completely worthless. A sob disguised as a cough managed to work its way up his throat as the events of the last few days played over and over again in his head. Sweden and Denmark had both been at each other's throats more often than not. Denmark was more bossy and demanding, becoming less and less like himself. Sweden more withdrawn and brutal, not a scrap of his normal laid-back personality showing anymore like it used to, even after their father's death. But the two were both oblivious to Norway's voluntary mute suffering, as he withered away under the guilt and shame that he couldn't save her…. Just like he couldn't save his father. He really was worthless, wasn't he?

Norway shook his head in an attempt to clear his head of inherently depressing thoughts. He needed to get away from all of this. He wanted to run and not look back, but it's not like- wait. The blond's eyes lit up slightly for the first time in two days. There was land that his people had found earlier that summer. They'd called the place 'Iceland' for reasons as obvious as day to the young Norwegian. No one would think of going to a place with the word 'ice' in it's name, even when it was- in actuality- the exact opposite. Now all he needed was the perfect moment when he could slip away from his brothers. He wouldn't have to worry about being noticed seeing as they all avoided each other so much so that one would have thought that they were strangers, not brothers.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

The door to the three brothers' home burst open, the hinges splintering as the wood groaned at the abuse it sustained. Sweden stalked in, Denmark at his heels snapping insults at his younger brother. This had obviously gone on for a while now as the next thing that Sweden did was draw his fist back- after the Dane spat out a particularly harsh insult- and hit Denmark square in the jaw with all of the strength that the young Viking could muster, and seeing as that was quite a lot of strength Sweden sent his Danish brother flying into the wall. The older blond hit his head on a beam and slumped to the floor out cold a thin trail of blood leading from the Dane's lips to join a small pool of blood on the floor from the wound on his head. Sweden lowered his fist and just stared at his older brother with a suppressed look of shock gracing his normally stoic features. The taller Nordic never noticed his younger brother watching the fight from the doorway. It was then that Norway realized that he had his chance. The young male sprinted down the path, the warm summer sun glaring down at him as if she were disapproving of his actions. It didn't matter. Norway had made up his mind. Now that Denmark was injured they couldn't go on raids or he'd risk 'death'- something that the three all agreed would be too kind at the moment- the youngest of the three had his chance to run from them. It was too much to deal with, all of the memories that is, they had practically made the Viking snap twice to many in the months after their…mother's… death.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

Sweden never noticed Norway as the latter of the two ran down the path; he was more or less focused on trying to wake his older brother up. Though, that seemed to be a feat that just wasn't happening at the moment. Denmark was unmoving on the ground and no matter how many times the larger Swede threatened his brother with bodily harm the Dane didn't budge. It was enough to send a pang of fear through the larger Viking. It was then that his mind started to go into a panicked state until he remembered, Denmark hated needles. "_Storebror_, 'f y' d'n't w'k' 'p… I-I'll f'nd th' l'rg'st n'dl' 'n 'x'st'nc' 'nd 's' 't 'n y'." Sweden tried feebly his voice breaking slightly in panic, especially when the Dane didn't bolt upright and start claiming in hurried Danish that he didn't need stitches. Had he just killed his brother? The thought echoed through his mind making his throat knot, his heart twisting in fear. The Swedish adolescent punched Denmark in the face again out of frustration, a part of him hoping that it would work.

Much to the astonishment of younger of the two it actually did work. Denmark quickly sat up, pale, and a bit dazed as he gagged at the sensation of blood in his throat from his now bloodied nose. "Ow." The older blond mumbled pulling his hand away from his nose to look at the blood, only to wince and feel the gash in the back of his head. The Dane laughed a little woozily, "Ya, got me but good there, Sve!" Denmark then proceeded to yelp at the pain his own voice caused him. He groaned and then for the first time since he regained consciousness he actually looked at his younger brother. The other blond was almost visibly shaking, his marine eyes glassy, breathing heavy. It was enough to almost make the Dane feel sorry for his younger brother. Almost. He laughed weakly, "You should see your fa-" Denmark never got to finish his sentence as Sweden punched his brother for a third time, forcing the Dane into unconsciousness once more.

'_By the time he's twenty he'll probably have brain damage.'_ Sweden thought to himself as he huffed in annoyance and lowered his fist once more as he got up to go and get the medical supplies, hoping that he could at least remember some of what his mother had taught him about basic medical procedures. Sweden threaded the needle with a shadow of a somewhat satisfied smirk. He would have a little _too _much fun giving Denmark stitches. Especially since the Dane almost heard him call aforementioned older blond _storebror, _something that the Swede would not live down easily had his idiot of an older brother heard him.

Of course it wasn't long after Sweden had finished stitching his brother's wound close and bandaged his head that the Dane once again regained consciousness. The spiky blond blinked groggily and looked around. His glazed eyes, once as bright as the sky itself where now dull with grief and pain that was both physical and emotional. Denmark looked across the room to find Sweden carving something with his knife. "Where's Nor?" The normally obnoxious Dane croaked, not finding his youngest brother in his line of sight. Sweden nearly cut himself. He hadn't thought about where Norway was. Sweden tried to think of the last place that he'd seen his younger brother, but he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't really taken any notice to Norway.

Quickly Sweden threw his carving down, the knife having gotten imbedded annoyingly in the grain of the wood as the tall Swede turned and went for his broadsword instead. He had learned it was better to be safe then sorry, and even though anarchy was now over he didn't trust his abilities enough to just take his knife with him. A little bit of overkill never hurt anyone, now did it? The marine-eyed nation then proceeded to sprint out of the Scandinavian's shared home and down to the town in slight distress hoping to find his little brother in the process.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

The tall Viking made it to the town and in the process of asking around to see in anyone had seen the missing nation the Swede managed to finally strike gold. Well, technically he almost ran into a person, but hey this is a story one can speak figuratively here. The young woman quickly jumped out of the adolescent's way and turned to snap at him, "Watch where you're going Berwald!" She scolded the physically younger Viking. Sweden mumbled an apology and the young woman, known as Rusla turned to walk away before stopping abruptly and turning to Sweden. "By the way, I saw your brother talking with Alvin earlier, they just left for Iceland a few moments ago. You just missed them." Sweden could have strangled Norway at that moment. It was so unlike the other blond to go off and do something so reckless. Sweden numbly thanked her for the information and walked away in a half-daze wondering what he was going to do. He doubted that they had enough money to last for the rest of the year, especially now that Denmark was injured thanks to Sweden and Norway had run off to hide from his problems leaving them with the issue of a lack of resources.

"W't." Sweden called to Rusla making the older blonde stop midstride. "'R' y' st'll g'ng t' 'r'l'nd th's y'r?" He asked hopefully in an attempt to overcome his social awkwardness. Rusla nodded. She wasn't going to let a divorce stop her from doing what she loved most. She was just lacking a boat, which was something Sweden had. "'f I l'n y' m' sh'p w'll y' p'y m' s'xty p'rc'nt 'f y' f'nd'ngs?" The young nation offered hoping that she wouldn't come up with a counter argument, after all Rusla was one of the best people to bargain with… if she was on your side that is.

A sigh. "Since you're Saga's son, and she was my friend," The woman looked around to make sure that no one was around to see her softer side before she turned back to the Swede, "I'll do sixty." She whispered accepting the male Viking's proposal without a second thought.

Sweden barely had any time to register the fact that he had practically just given up his ship to one of the most renowned Vikings of the time for _just_ sixty percent when the Swede remembered: his younger brother was on his way to Iceland by now and his elder idiot of a brother was back at their house whining that his head was bothering him. That left all of the work on Sweden. Sighing the tall nation started on his way back home, dragging his feet to try and prolong the headache that would probably greet him as soon as he opened the door.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

The Norwegian's breathing hitched, his grip on his hammer quickly turning into a vice-grip as that word, that _stupid_ word played over and over again in his mind as he made his way to the docks. _Mother._ Was that really what she was to him? A _mother_? Luckily he had made it to the docks and was no longer alone to keep his mind on that subject. Blocking out all other thoughts the adolescent walked up to a hulking man with wiry reddish-blond hair that didn't seem to know the concept of gravity and cleared his throat. The man turned his head slightly to reveal a battle-scarred face and cold blue eyes that peeked out from his eyebrows. The physically older Viking stood to his full height and turned towards Norway, his expression lighting up as he recognized the teen in front of him. "Lukas!" The man's baritone voice seemed to resonate across the waters turning what was once a peaceful afternoon to dust in nothing flat. The nation in question winced hoping that his brothers were nowhere near at the moment.

"Alvin." Norway responded in a more level tone keeping all emotion safely from the surface as to not draw attention to him self. The nation waited patiently for the middle-aged man to invite him on the ship with the rest of his crew. Alvin clumsily boarded the dragon after the younger Viking was safely onboard barking orders for said crew plus Norway to cast off. "To Iceland?" Norway questioned once they had navigated out of the rather deceitful coastline of his home.

The man nodded, "To Iceland."

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

A little boy shivered in an open meadow, lush grasses caressing his tiny face and hands. People had recently started coming to his land, strange people with large pieces of tree in the shape of a dragon and pieces of shinny stuff that bit into flesh and earth with such ease that it scared the child. He didn't like these people; they were too big and scary-looking. The child whimpered and tried to press closer to the ground, but the earth was too hard-packed for him to get very far. That was when a rather large, human shadow fell over the boy. He screeched, earning a grunt of pain from the person above him, and darted off into the tall grasses. He didn't like this change at all. It was too scary.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

Weeks passed by on the endless plane of the ocean. Deep waves lapped at the sides of the boat teasingly as…darker things swam beneath in _her_ realm, the realm of the ocean goddess. A deity known for her brutal cruelty, and now was no exception, especially seeing as there was an obvious lack of wind for the crew of Vikings that ever so slowly made their way across a rather deadly trail illustrated on a map to a spit of land seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Norway looked out at the sea a hollow look in his matching eyes. Only instead of dark creatures there was pure, raw, guilt and anguish suppressed beneath the surface of the Norwegian's blue gaze. Before the Viking laid an uncharted territory, a new and young country just as cruelly thrown into the world... sort of like how he'd been ripped away from everything that had given him solace. The blond jumped slightly as the wind picked up again filling the single sail and nudging the ship foreword towards the unknown.

* * *

_Hetalia_

* * *

Only two days after the first sighting of the new country the dragon landed and its human cargo proceeded to disembark and stumble around like drunkards until they regained the ability to walk on land again. Norway managed to sneak away from the men and went to do a little bit of exploration of the country. There was bound to be a personification here, and if they hadn't already been brought to the settlement then they'd probably be out here. Besides, the Norwegian needed something to take his mind off of past events and finding a new country seemed like a good idea to him.

A sudden crackling of underbrush and a sharp blur of white flooded Norway's senses as he was practically attacked by… a child. Now Norway had no idea that it was a child when he was rushed so when he found that the ground was suddenly a whole lot closer the nation instinctively lashed out at the mass in front of him in blind frustration. His hunting knife met nothing. The blond blinked in mild surprise. It was then that he realized he wasn't being attacked and that awful noise that was probably going to be the cause of loss of hearing in his right ear was the scream of a child. The weight suddenly flew from his chest as if pulled by strings as the young boy jumped off of Norway. The older nation looked at the kid, who was no more than five, and stood up slowly, gritting his teeth at the thin cuts in his hand and forearms he had received from the sand when he had fell.

The little boy had backed up from Norway, inspecting him with wide violet eyes that were brimming with tears. There was something off about the older boy in front of the new country. He brought tiny fists up to his eyes stubbornly to block his tears as he looked up at the other boy. Well sure this _Viking_ was younger than the others, and _short_ too. But there was something else. The older boy looked as though he were lost. The white-haired child was startled the most when the other boy sheathed his weapon and looked down on him with scathing eyes. It was almost as if the older of the two despised the younger. That look only lasted a second though as the boy in front of him sighed and after a brief glance around spoke at last. "Who are you?" He asked. This prompted a little bit of thought from the child, why was this boy asking who he was? Why wasn't he trying to attack him like that other man only a little while earlier? But seeing as he was a child his mind quickly forgot those details and in the heat of the moment, so to speak the child stuttered out an answer. Though, it seemed that the taller boy didn't hear what he had said so the new country took a shaky breath in an attempt to calm him self and tried again.

"I-I'm Iceland."

* * *

Oh lookie here, I totally didn't just add this just to make the story longer, no I didn't~ Now all that remains is for Iceland to call Norway big brother and for Norway to figure out if he's going to ever recognize Saga as his mother or not.

Historical stuffs-

Yep you guys heard (read) it, Iceland was found in c. 800 AD by, guess who? Yep, Iceland was 'discovered' by Erik the Red in 930 (Read - That's a pun people) and it was his descendants who went on to discover Greenland and America. (Discovering nations is part of the family business) However the whole thing where the DNA test comes in is one of the first permanent settlements was established in 874 AD by Ingolf Arnarson which explains why there was confusion as to why there were already people living on Iceland by the time it was 'discovered'. But I'm just saying it happened in 800 because, well, those where when the first _permanent _settlements happened. That and I just fits better with the story! DX

Speaking of people who like the color red that lady that Sweden was talking to? Yeah she's no poorly constructed OC, she actually existed :3 Her more famous name was the Red Maiden (Rusla). Her and her sister (Stikla) were two notorious Vikings who pillaged towns in Denmark, the British Isles, and Iceland. She also waged war against Denmark when her brother (who was a Norwegian King) lost the crown to the Danish King. It was this war and her 'take no prisoner' type of personality that gave her, her nickname and a place in legend (especially when her brother caught her and ordered to have her beaten to death with the oars.) She terrorized Ireland in about the year 800 AD just for a date for… like… future reference… ya know?

Other stuffs that you crazy and loveable people might be interested were the Vikings in Istanbul, Turkey and Spain and the Black Sea. That also happened in 800 (It was a busy year, the Vikings were outsourcing (Another bad joke people))

Oh yeah, and Viking women could get divorces, just as a side note. (So instead of people fighting over the house they'd fight over who got the boat. (Okay that was bad, I'm going to stop now. But that's the whole reason behind that part of the plot. Don't judge))

Language-

_Storebror_- Swedish- Big brother


End file.
